Charactia Part 1: Welcome to Charactia
by GV Williams
Summary: When she boards the wrong bus home, an avid fangirl winds up in the alternate universe of Charactia- a world where films, TV, video games, and novels coexist with one another. The world seems wonderful at first...but the scarier parts of pop culture soon begin to surface. (Beginning of a long series, no gore, some blood)
1. Prologue

**I do not own any of the properties used in my stories. **

The thick, metal, bulletproof door that had been keeping the prisoner lay on one hinge, dangling slightly. The wall behind it was cracked and dented from where the door had thrashed against it. The thick metal walls without any lights or windows were blown apart to rubble. This was the same for all of the cells on the floor, though these cells were nothing but glass. All fifty highly fortified, indestructible and and bullet-proof glass cells were destroyed, leaving nothing but the empty metal frames. All of the destruction had come from that one quiet cell where the prisoner had left no trace of himself except for a trail of blood drops. The lights hanging from the ceiling were either flickering or shattered to pieces across the floor.

The only people people that stood in this destroyed hallway were three scientists and twenty armoured SWAT troopers, sifting through the rubble and glass to see if there were any prisoners left.

But there was no one. Every last prisoner had gone.

The first scientist was lanky, tall, with thick rimmed glasses. He was shaking as he examined the huge door of the cell at the end of the hall.

"This all happened in a matter of seconds. The security caught the footage... or what's left of the footage,"

"And?" the second scientist said. She was not looking at the heaviest protected cell, rather down the hallway at the wreckage before her. She appeared to be in charge with puffy white hair around her neck, a plump form, and square silver glasses. Her face was wrinkled.

"Well," the third scientist said. He had dark skin and a shaved head. "The footage saw this door open, slam really, and then one by one...the cells burst apart as if overflowing with water. The next footage is fuzzy, the cameras were cracked, but he lumbered out and cut his feet on the glass.

That's why there's blood, see?"

The second scientist sniggered. "A regular John McClane,"

"I highly doubt that John McClane walks on broken glass anymore, ma'am," the first scientist said with a smile. He pushed the heavy door back and forth timidly. "There's no point in following the blood anyhow, they disappear at about the third hallway. He stole all his stuff back and then-" The scientist snapped his fingers. "Vanished in thin air, I imagine."

"Boy, I hate it when he does that," the third scientist shuddered. "What made him do this? His mind was excruciatingly disciplined. Four months here and his expression hardly wavered."

"The exterior is highly misleading, Caster," the second doctor whispered. "He was an expert at masking his interiors. I do suppose we suppressed his powers for too long but-" She shrugged. "That was a minor setback. It was the only way to study him. I had never seen someone like him in all of Charactia."

"He wasn't an animal," the third scientist named Caster said stiffly.

"He wasn't Human either," the second scientist snapped, turning and kicking some glass with a high-heeled foot. "I think you've forgotten that no one in this lab was Human. Well? What do you think? Do you think the shifter had something to do with it?"

Caster and the bespectacled doctor exchanged glances.

"Which one?" the bespectacled man asked awkwardly. "We had about thirty of them."

"Who do you think, Julius? The one who sat in the cell watching that same video over and over! The one who kept muttering on and on about Italian wines, trying to master a British accent!" the second scientist cried.

"It was actually a-" Julius started but was cut off.

"Convinced he could be someone else...such body insecurity is highly blameable," The woman sighed and turned around. "Still. He was advanced for his kind. To match a man so perfectly. To use such perfect manipulation, shifting others to do what he wanted. The others as well. They did as their leader did."

"Not to his extent though," Caster said. "They seemed to have a line between their role and themselves. Their leader... It was as if he was trying to be insane."

"If he wasn't insane, he is now," Julius shuddered. "The same with the Prize. He's mad, I'm telling you. The second he woke up from the Carbonite...something about him..."

"Good news for us," the woman clapped her hands together. "He'll be disoriented from the Carbonite sickness and his powers will be unstable for a while."

Julius cleared his throat. "Er, ma'am. I think it would be best if we focused on catching the others. Wouldn't it be better if we just...let the Prize go? He was never cooperative and he's a tad- a tad- well-" He gestured towards the padded cell behind him. "You know. I remember giving him food... you know what he can do. Those cold, black eyes like tunnels...boring into my brain. You look in his eye and he can see everything in your head! He can tell you what you had for breakfast two days before! He knew everything about me and never spoke a word!"

"Which is why I ordered you not to look into his eyes!"

"Ma'm, it wasn't easy," Caster said earnestly.

"Admit it, you looked at him every once in a while. Those eyes were easy to avoid, as he kept them on you every second he got."

"He was a...a freak," Julius hissed with nasty distaste.

The female scientist put a finger to her lips. "Speak that word and he'd send you all the way to Tatooine. You remember how much our good friend despised that word. He may not be here but you'd do well to remember that he is dangerous. Which is why we must get him back."

Caster stepped forward. "What about the others? The woman! The sister of the most famous detective ever and those statues that move when you blink! They're all out there and-"

"Only the Prize matters," the female scientist said in a distant voice. "He is the only one we need.

And Charactia has its precious Doctor and we'll let the brother detective handle his sister. He did once before."

"You're upset because you couldn't capture the Doctor," Julius sneered. The female scientist spun around, scowling.

"My specimen is the only thing that matters! There's still so much he could do for us! He may be dangerous but he is our weapon into the secret dimension, just as my brother's specimen was. But, oh, my specimen triumphs over his! My specimen doesn't leak blood from the holes in his face when he uses his powers! My specimen will not escape and never be caught again!"

"He's more ferocious than you're willing to admit!" Julius cried. "Both he and the shapeshifter are too dangerous for society and if the shapeshifter did something to release the Prize-"

The female scientists' fists were clenched in frustration. "The shifter went on and on about wanting to meet the FBI!" she spat. "He's THEIR problem now! As for my Prize, he is not prepared for the outside world. He will be confused and disoriented, but he knows too much and will surely exploit us. He'll come back sooner or later when he learns that we can take him home."

She turned and called for three SWAT troopers. "I want an outer scan of the lab. Use the blood collected to find him," The troopers nodded and jogged away.

"He and the others are long gone. And how are you gonna track those aliens that look like salt-shakers-" Caster asked.

The woman turned and put another finger to her lips.

"I don't care. That half-blood belongs to me. I don't care if he frightens you. I don't care if he can make you bleed by saying one word, that he can flick his wrist and make you immobile. I want him here, I want him alive. And I want him back in his quiet cell,"

Caster and Julius muttered a simultaneous "Yes, ma'm," after exchanging raised eyebrows. They turned to see their boss give them a sickly sort of smile and turn, striding down the hall, glass crinkling under her heels, humming a song by the Clash. The lights flickered violently against her dark form.

The two scientists looked behind them at the empty quiet cell, staring into its dark room with white padded walls and no lights. They shuddered and stepped away from it.

Because, for a split second, they had both seen the Prize huddled in a corner...his black eyes peering through a curtain of greasy, black hair, emotionless, weird, and absolutely freakish.


	2. The Wrong Ride

Gwendolyn MacMillan, 'Gwen' to the majority of her friends, which consisted of three friends, was terrified to go on a bus alone. At least, a bus going through a city with a ton of strangers. She'd always dreamt about doing so, hopping on a bus alone to an area for a self-adventure, like Percy Jackson or Eleven or Harry Potter on the Knight Bus. But those main characters usually had a world to save or epic powers to help in case they got into trouble. She was just a sixteen-year-old girl with an encyclopedic knowledge of film and literature, who played the trumpet, who had an anxiety disorder.

Going on a public transit bus alone had two problems: actually paying for a bus ticket and the amount of people on the bus. She didn't want to have to actually talk to the bus driver or anyone around her. Unless she started the conversation. That way, she knew where the conversation was going. For instance, if she saw someone wearing a t-shirt with a Hogwarts crest or a set of pants with a Correlian red-stripe, she would compliment them and they might just get into a conversation about their main fandom or love.

For Gwen, she had been raised as a geek. Although her parents hadn't managed to get her into Star Trek until five months ago, she could name ten different Star Wars characters at age seven and could say 'tyrannosaurus rex' before she could say simple cooking utensil. Her parents has shown her scenes from 'Jurassic Park' when she was six and she had fallen in love with dinosaurs ever since. Her mother had read the 'Harry Potter' series aloud to her until she was thirteen (however, only one was read per year which backfired when the spoilers came round, and Gwen knew about every single death in 'Harry Potter' before book three had ended). Because of her Christian and geek raising (and her passion to defend both until Odin banished someone to Midgard because they were unworthy), most of the students at her high school thought she was disabled in some way. Talented, creative, but sometimes autistic. Kids in her elementary school had called her gay once because she was a "Star Wars" fan. Well, she wasn't gay, and she certainly wasn't autistic.

She had an anxiety disorder. Meaning that her brain mentally was not supposed to able to handle a lot of the pop culture some of her fellow students indulged it. Mainly this consisted of horror movies, which somewhat fascinated her and she so desperately wanted to be a part of. Her mother was a horror fan and was the absolute opposite of her daughter, having seen every single one of the 'Friday the 13th' movies AND could compliment 'The Shining' on its "gorgeous layout and beautiful shots" for ten minutes straight. But when Gwen barely made it through the 'Stranger Things' season finale, there was no telling how 'Alien' was going to affect her.

Luckily, she couldn't figure out if any horror movies involved public buses, so that was an upside if she was being forced to go on one. Which brought her back to the fear of having to go on one alone.

She sat on the bus stop, in the pouring rain wearing a Georgie-esque yellow rain jacket over a grey and red hoodie with a large white Hogwarts symbol across the front. Her reddish-brown hair in a tight ponytail behind a green and blue dragon bandanna. Her jeans were immaculate (she honestly didn't find ripped jeans that comfortable) and her Spider-Gwen book bag was by her sneakers. That was one of the reasons she adored her name.

The name 'Gwen' or 'Gwendolyn' was featured in so many of her favourite fandoms. 'Gwenpool' and 'Spider-Gwen', 'Galaxy Quest', 'Doctor Who', 'Merlin', and even in 'Harry Potter (even if that name was actually Gwenog).

Her bright blue eyes scanned the streets of Halifax, Nova Scotia as she scrolled through the photos on her phone, protected from the bullet-like rain by the clear bus-stop shelter.

She sat, in the rain, alone, praying to God under her breath, going through situations in her head with what foul language she would scream if someone grabbed her.

She had stayed after school to work on an art project (a painting of Deep Space Nine, the wonderful mall in space) and her mother was still at her grade 7 band rehearsal (she taught middle school music temporarily, to her relief). Her father was still working at the convience store and her sister was at home, fourteen, and couldn't drive. So Gwen was forced to dig out the emergency bus money at the bottom of her locker, riddled with personal drawings of her favourite characters, and catch a public bus.

At least, while she was digging, she had found that old magnet of Commander Riker playing trombone that she could put on her locker door.

She really wanted to talk to herself. She did it a lot, but there was one other man in the bus-stop with her, leaning against the wall of the shelter, on his own phone, and she was too scared to begin. Once, she had played out her fanfiction, out loud, in the girl's locker room, only to discover that another girl had been in there with her the entire time.

So she continued to look at the photos of her phone.

Most of them were 'Harry Potter' related, and most of those were pictures of Professor Severus Snape, the cruel and complicated Potions Master at Harry Potter's school Hogwarts. His backstory, tragic and devastating, was only revealed at the end of the final book. But Gwen had it spoiled for her by book three. Nonetheless, he hadn't become her favourite character until book six. Until then, it was Hagrid and Luna. Ever since she discovered how much she loved the character Snape, she had become a tad...ah...obsessed with him. His actor, the late Alan Rickman, had caused her to cry for two straight days after his death when she found out during class. Not a day went by when Gwen regretted not staying home from school the next day to binge several of his movies.

Then, after he had gone and she had memorized all of the movies he had ever starred in (no joke, she memorized all of them), she discovered Anthony Hopkins and boy did that come with repercussions. She loved the Welsh Oscar-winner, her anxiety disorder did not. Maybe it was the fact that a horror film actor was so popular in other things, or the fact that he was really a kindly and shy old man with Aspergers. Either way, he had taken to the roster as her second favourite actor. No matter what gory images she had seen that slipped into her nightmares. Gwen would just have to enjoy the works of Sir Anthony Hopkins without the whole "liver and fava beans" thing.

Benedict Cumberbatch was her third favourite, and that was self-explanatory.

Gwen put her phone away and shoved her hands in her pockets, cold and white. She looked up and down the rainy street for the bus. She looked back at her phone. Normally, the bus was supposed to come at four. It was ten minutes late. The man in the stop with her rolled his eyes and began to wander out of the stop down the sidewalk, obviously aware of the bus' tardiness.

Gwen now had two options: she could leave and not alert her parents, as she had no Wi-Fi to contact her parents, or she could wait here for who knows how long. She chose the second option, and remained put.

Across the street was a sewer grate that allowed the rain to flow down the street and inside of it, under the sidewalk. Gwen stared across as it with a blank expression but then looked at her yellow jacket. She had a momentary anxiety panic about her friend telling her about Pennywise but then nearly spit laughing when she remembered that same friend showing her those terrific memes.

In her fantasies, Gwen was a hundred times more brave when she faced off with horror movie villains and always had the perfect comeback for them. But that was because she always knew exactly what they were going to say, since they were in her imagination.

Alan Rickman was also still alive in her imagination. Two years since his death seemed like nothing to her. Her grandfather's death hurt her less since she knew exactly where he was going and she had spent her entire childhood with him. With her favourite actor, she didn't know him and had no idea where he had gone.

A bird landed on the edge of the sewer grate and began to peck at the bars stretching between the road and the sidewalk. Gwen looked down at her lap and then back up. The bird was gone. She thought nothing of it.

There was a hissing sound and Gwen glanced down the left of the road to see the long, blue and gold transit bus driving down the road, splashing the cold rain puddles aside, its windshield wipers flashing back and forth feverishly. She stood up, swinging her backpack around her back, pulling up the hood of her yellow jacket. She smiled as the bus' advertisement on the side which was for the new 'Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom' film. She was in love with the film series and was eager to see more dinosaur-loving female characters in the movie, especially since the last two female characters that had really become iconic either studied plants or hated dinosaurs.

The bus slowed to a stop before the bus-stop and Gwen glanced back to the left to see if the man had noticed that the bus had arrived, but he was nowhere in sight. Gwen faced the bus and it slid open to reveal and man sitting in the driver's seat with a toque over his ears and pointed eyebrows. Gwen smiled, in which he did not return.

She stepped into the bus and handed him her coins, which he exchanged silently for a ticket by dropping the coins into a small machine, clicking a few buttons, and then a long ticket zipped out. She raised her eyebrows, majorly impressed by the machine.

"That's pretty cool," she marvelled, receiving her ticket, looking it up and down. The driver cocked an eyebrow.

"Cool?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, how does it work?"

"Logically," the driver said in a bored tone, closing the door to the bus. "It works logically. Sit down."

Gwen blinked and muttered an apology, moving into the transit bus. She was thrown off guard at seeing how empty the bus was, physically stopping herself. The long grey, plastic seats on the sides were bare, no one held onto the tall yellow poles that stretched between the floor and ceiling. There was one person sitting at the far back, on an elevated platform with grey plastic seats facing the front, but Gwen couldn't see who they were.

She was jerked into movement again as the bus began to move. She felt her heart bounce into her throat and she raced into a plastic seat, shaking slightly. She continued to look at the back of the bus where the singular seated man was, wearing a beige fedora. He was sitting back to to her, seemingly quite fascinated with something else. The back of the man's neck was covered in a thick white scarf so Gwen didn't even have a hint of what he looked like.

She put her backpack on her lap and stared around the bus. At four ten in the afternoon, she was on a bus, almost completely alone, the rain pouring like bullets against the window. She sat, feeling totally and utterly awkward. It was too quiet in the bus for starters, and although she had managed to speak to the bus driver without worry (and there was barely anyone on the bus), she still didn't feel comfortable. She pulled her hood back.

"Yeah, thanks for the lack of people on the bus, God," she whispered under her breath, staring back and forth nervously from the driver in the toque and the man in the fedora. Neither of them were looking at her. "But, um, could you make this less awkward?"

She had to pay attention to the stops, as there were three before the one next to her house, but she desperately wanted to put her headphones in and just visit her own little world for a while. How come, no matter what anxious fears she had that were proven wrong, she somehow managed to feel awkward in any situation?

There was some kind of weird energy that kept her looking at the back of the man on the platform, who was now staring out the window. She blinked at him a few times and then she pulled out her phone to play some Minecraft. She didn't care how 'out of date' Minecraft was, she was going to keep in playing it and get laughed at for it being a 'children's' game.

It was so annoying the way something could be so stupid, but cool. But once it stops being popular, then suddenly it's uncool. 'Dabbing' was always stupid, always cringe-worth, but at some point it was 'cool'. Then, after it's over, it USED to be cool.

No, it was never cool. Gwen just continued to do it to show how cringe-worthy it actually was.

She kept her ears open for the stops as she built a small hotel on Minecraft, with rooms themed to different characters from fandoms. She wanted to get home as fast as she could so she could work on studying for her biology test on Friday, practice her trumpet for her band concert, AND still get an episode of 'Deep Space Nine' in. However, it was already four twenty so it didn't look like DS9 was going to happen, which sucked because she really needed a daily dose of Constable Odo and Quark shenanigans.

Her parents were always watching 'Star Trek' when she was a kid. They tried for so long to get her to watch it with her. They tried showing her TOS (The Original Series), then a few episodes of 'Next Gen.', and then an episode of 'Voyager'. But she only really fell in love with the 'Trek' universe when she started watching 'Deep Space Nine'. Finally, a 'Trek' series with real consequences that stuck with the crew. A 'Trek' series about the aliens. A 'Trek' series with a new formula, always staying in one place instead of going one place to the next. 'Deep Space Nine' connected her with the characters better than any of the other shows, and it was good she had seen the TNG episodes that connected into DS9. She made the mistake of trying to get her best friend Ryan to watch the first DS9 episodes (which succeeded) only to forget to tell him about the Borg tie-in.

There was a squeaking that sounded throughout the bus and Gwen shut her phone off, startled by the sound. The sound was the least of her problems though, as the white lights illuminated the bus suddenly began to flicker on and off wildly. Her jaw dropped and she stared at the back of the bus at the man in the fedora, who had turned around. She saw his face briefly through the flashing lights of the bus and blinked, leaving him to turn around again. In the dark of the industrial lightning flashes, it looked as though he didn't have a face, that it was a white blank face with a splatter of black paint across it.

The bus stopped and the lights ceased their flickering.

"Um- Excuse me- Hey-" Gwen stood up, clutching a yellow pole.

"Sit down or someone will take your seat," the driver said tiredly as he opened the door to the bus and a cold gust of rainy wind swept inside.

"But- I mean- What was that? Is that normal? Is there something wrong with the bus?"

"If there was something wrong with the bus, do you not think I would sound a bit concerned?"

"But- um- No, I mean yes-"

"Sit down,"

Gwen felt her heart pound from being told off again and she sat back in her seat, staring up at the lights as if they may shut off at any second. Perfect, a fear she had never considered. The lights of the bus suddenly flashing off. She sat back down in her seat, praying quietly, looking back at the man on the platform.

In those flashing lights, that guy looked exactly like Rorschach from 'Watchmen'. Which she hadn't seen but she recognized the character.

She really needed to stop investing so much time in the DC universe. The last thing she wanted was to literally start seeing superheroes everywhere.

She smiled slightly at the back of the man's fedora-clad head. It would be pretty cool if it really was Rorschach but if it was, Gwen would probably just end up gawking in awe at him. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

What was she thinking? Was she insane? Was she seriously contemplating the idea that this random stranger was actually a fictional superhero?

A new person had entered the bus, which outed her mind from the thought and gave her a new person to stare at. This person was from MayForce Con, the two-day May comic-convention currently occurring on the edge of the city. It was obvious that this specific guy was from the convention, because he was wearing a full-fledged 'Star Wars' X-Wing pilot costume, complete with a helmet under the arm and an orange jumpsuit with a white oxygen pad on the front.

Gwen grinned with an open mouth at the sheer detail of the costume. The X-Wing pilot cosplayer smiled at her, sat directly across from her on the plastic seats as the bus started again. Of course that man had looked like Rorschach. He was probably from MayForce as well, simply cosplaying the fictional superhero.

"That's an amazing costume," Gwen breathed in awe, pointing at the X-Wing pilot helmet on the seat next to the cosplayer, stunned by its perfect orange glass visor and the red Rebellion symbols on its curved, white top. "Did you make it all yourself?"

The cosplayer smiled, furrowing his brow in a look that reminded Gwen immensely of Jim Halpert from 'The Office'. "I painted the helmet,"

"So you bought the costume? It's really cool,"

The pilot looked down at his orange jumpsuit and white straps around his arms and legs. He gave the same look to Gwendolyn. "It was given to me."

"That's crazy," Gwen gasped. "The best I got from my friends are Cineplex gift cards and Funko Pops."

"Funko what?"

"Funko Pops. You know, those little collectible bobble heads with big black eyes? Wait, you watch 'Star Wars' and don't know what Funko Pops are?"

"Can't say that I do,"

"You have got to check them out. I'm sure they have a bunch at MayForce, right?"

"Maybe,"

There was silence between them and Gwen's cheeks went pink. She slumped in the seat.

"Sorry, I just- um- I thought you might've been at MayForce because... You know, you're in cosplay. It's a great costume, but I-"

"Don't worry about it," the pilot laughed, waving a hand. "I probably know what you're talking about but-" He shrugged. "I don't have Wi-Fi with me."

"Well, I've got pictures on my phone if you wanted to see," Gwen suggested.

"Nah, it's good. I'll look it up at home,"

They were quiet again and Gwen went back to feeling awkward. Here she was, across from an obvious fellow Star Warrior, and all they were was silent. She racked her brain for more topics on the 'Star Wars' galaxy.

"Did you like 'Last Jedi'?"

"Huh?"

"'Last Jedi'. What did you think about it? I thought it was pretty good,"

"Oh, I don't know. Yeah, it was pretty good," the pilot agreed. A part of the smile on his face was hesitant but it was an answer nonetheless. Gwen grinned with wide eyes.

"Really? You liked it? Everyone else I met hated it!"

"Nah, nah. It was good. I liked the um...wars parts,"

Something about that statement seemed false.

Gwen frowned. "Are you just agreeing with me because you don't want to argue? Did you actually see it?"

"Yeah, I saw a Last Jedi,"

"There's only one,"

"Well, yeah. Rey,"

"Did you think Luke's death was cool? I liked it,"

The pilot then glared and folded his arms. "Cool? What about Luke Skywalker's death was cool? He was the face of the Rebellion! The Resistance! The only one able to hold his own against Kylo Ren! Now he's gone! There's nothing cool about it!"

Gwen was taken aback by the sudden change of personality. She sat back, eyes wide. "Woah- I never meant- I never meant to offend you- I didn't mean it was cool that he died, I just thought it was epic he made that giant illusion!"

"Well," the pilot had calmed down. "It was pretty epic." He paused.

There was a look in his eyes Gwen couldn't pinpoint. It almost looked like mourning...like Luke had been a dear friend who had died. She understood that. The characters of 'Star Wars' had been her imaginary friends for a very long time... To have Han Solo and Luke Skywalker suddenly gone really hurt. But the way Luke had died hadn't made her shed tears. It was the exact way she felt Luke would've wanted to die: peacefully and yet, heroically.

"What did you think of the Porgs?" she asked quietly, desperate to get the sorrowful look from the cosplayer's eyes. "I wasn't too fond of them at first but now I think- well- they're adorable! I want one of my own!"

The pilot smiled shyly. "Yeah, they're pretty cute. You sure know a lot about the galaxy. Do you take it in school?"

Gwen laughed out loud at the joke. "I wish. If they taught us about the 'Star Wars' universe in school, I would have hundreds in everything,"

The bus squealed once again to stop and the lights began to flash. The pilot looked blandly at the ceiling and Gwen jumped in her seat, also looking at the ceiling. She clutched her book bag looking down at the pilot.

"What's wrong?" the pilot asked.

"Is there something wrong with the bus? This is, like, the second time this has-"

"Oh, it's just because we're travelling through another dimension," the pilot said, waving a hand.

Gwen laughed nervously, looking back at the man in the Rorschach cosplay, who was looking back at her with his blank white and black mask. She waved at him, giving him a thumbs up to show how she liked his costume. He turned back to to her.

"Good 'Stranger Things' reference," she said to the pilot.

In 'Stranger Things', lights would flash and flicker whenever a rift was opened to another dimension called the Upside-Down. Which was a really crappy place that reminded her of Stephen King.

It even had a scary monster, the Demogorgon, which looking like a pale naked guy with a wide flower-shaped mouth.

The pilot appeared not to have heard her, turning to face the Rorschach cosplayer, who was now looking at him. He grinned.

"Hey man, how are you?"

"I've been better," the cosplayer said in a muffled voice through the mask.

"Busy day?"

"Extremely,"

The pilot laughed and the Rorschach cosplayer turned away. Gwen laughed as well. "You, um, know each other?"

The pilot made the Jim Halpert expression again.

"Um, yeah?"

It was Gwen's turn for the Jim Halpert expression. That wasn't an answer, so she assumed they had met one another at MayForce. This made her slightly jealous, as she hadn't had enough money to go to MayForce.

Onto the bus came a young man with a buzz-cut wearing a pinstriped suit with a badge over his heart. Gwen couldn't see what was on the badge but it looked like an eagle of some kind. He sat a few seat spaces down from the pilot, looking at his phone. The bus started again and so did Gwen's urge to keep talking. She liked to talk, especially about fandoms.

"So who's your favourite 'Star Wars' character? Mine's Han Solo. I'm so excited that he's getting his own movie! They better not screw it up. I mean, Woody Harrelson's gonna be in it, so that's great. Everyone is convinced it's gonna suck but I'm that one positive one,"

"Oh really," the pilot said, looking at the suited man next to him.

"Yeah, I think it's gonna be really good and then everyone who hated on it is gonna be really surprised. What do you think?"

"I, uh, haven't thought about it," He didn't seem to be listening. In fact, now that Gwen noticed it, his expression and almost turned fearful. He seemed afraid to look at her.

She looked back at the Rorschach cosplayer as was startled to see him standing from his chair, calmly despite the rocking off the bus, moving down the stairs and across the bus.

She was even more startled as the stranger sat directly on her right. His masked face looked down at her.

"That's a nice backpack. Spider-Gwen,"

"That's a nice costume," Gwen returned the compliment, shuffling away from the stranger slightly, her heart in her throat. "I don't know much about Rorschach except for the fact that he's in 'Watchmen' and is a superhero."

"I won't spoil the details," the cosplayer said.

"I was thinking on going on the wiki to research him. My mom won't let me watch 'Watchmen'. She says it's too violent for me. But I can wait. Maybe that's what I'll watch for my eighteenth birthday party,"

"It's...worth the wait,"

"Really?"

"Oh yes,"

"Cool..."

"I made this costume myself,"

"Oh, really?"

The cosplayer nodded. "This is a thin material which allows me to breath and see naturally,"

"Cool," Gwen said. "I always wondered how, you know, he does it."

"Are you familiar with the Justice League?"

Gwen grinned. "Oh yeah. Batman is my favourite. But I also really like Supergirl,"

"I see,"

They were silent and Gwen cracked her knuckles and practically all of the joints in her hands. The pilot, the Rorschach cosplayer, and the suited man all looked up and she grinned.

"Don't worry. My doctor said it could get me a good act in Vegas,"

The flickering lights in the bus returned but by now, Gwen was used to and ready for it once she heard the bus squeal. She and the other three all rose to their feet, Gwen collected her backpack. That was it. Her first trip on a transit bus alone and it couldn't have been better. The three all moved to the front of the bus and the door opened. It had stopped raining as Gwen looked out the darkened windows. The driver nodded to the Rorschach cosplayer as well as the pilot and suited man. Gwen grinned at the driver, who ignored her.

She stepped out of the bus and onto the sidewalk. The pilot waved to her, walking down the sidewalk of the stop next to the bus. The Rorschach cosplayer shook her hand and turned, striding the opposite way, his beige trench coat billowing behind him. The suited man remained buried in his phone.

The sky had gone from a dark grey to a bright sky blue in record time. The sidewalks were dry, any hint of the pouring rain had ceased immediately. It was unnatural, almost supernaturally so, and Gwen couldn't help but marvel at the random change. She took out her phone after lowering her pack to the ground and checked the time.

4:40. Had she really been on the bus for thirty minutes? Crap.

She stuffed her phone into her backpack, swung it over her backpack, and took off down the sidewalk to the right. She ran through the crowds of people, panting and sweating in her sweater and raincoat. People gasped out and shouted as she pushed through them, even knocking a man in a violet coat over on the ground. She yelled the word "sorry" over a dozen times and counting, dashing down the sidewalk. She still had so much to do when she got home, the bus ride never took that long.

Shoot. Did she have a key to get inside the house if no one was home? Was her mom home and would she be angry if she came home late? She hadn't told her sister she was at school, and now she was home alone. Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap.

She continued to sprint, wheezing. Did she pack her inhalers? Oh whatever, it wasn't that bad. She had another two streets to race down, just four more corners, then she'd be home. As she knocked and whacked into four more people as she turned a corner, she began to slow to a jog.

The tree. Where were the trees? She actually took in her surroundings for a second. She didn't live in the main city. She lived on the outskirts, where the trees grew thick and emerald over the tops of the houses. Near the shopping center. She paused and stomped her foot.

She had gotten on the wrong bus.

It was moments of horror and overwhelming anxiety that she may not get home in time, that she wouldn't be able to finish her homework. That someone might come along the side of the road might grab her, shove her the back of a van, and make her live through that stupid kidnapping episode of 'The X-Files' (the only episode she had seen, the one that gave her nightmares).

These were the moments that shook her entire body and made her say the f-word about fifty times with tears streaming down her face as she stared wildly around the downtown of Halifax. Perfect. Just perfect. She knew going on a bus alone was a bad idea. She KNEW it. If she had just remained focused instead of standing with those stupid cosplayers and their stupid costumes.

Right in the middle of the sidewalk, uttering the s-word exactly ten times, she got out her phone and called her mom. Typical. No answer. She always had her phone on vibrate at the bottom of her purse. Quickly, hands fumbling, Gwen called her dad. He didn't answer either. She roared in public at her phone, ignoring the stares, slamming her phone into her backpack.

Great. An anxiety dream come true. She was lost in the city and broke as all heck. She paced back and forth, looking up and down the crowded streets to see if she could find a store she recognized. A Starbucks would be nice. She could always ask someone for direction-

No. Talking to someone was dangerous. In Halifax, it may have been tamer than New York City but it was still dangerous to her. Across the streets she saw a McDonalds, a Pizza Hut, a Dunkin' Donuts-

Wait.

What?

Was that a Dunkin Donuts?

Like, an actual Dunkin' Donuts?

In Canada?

Gwen stood there, staring at chain restaurant with its white, orange, and violet vibrant colours. She just stood there, mesmerized, completely hypnotized, unresponsive to anything around her. That was a Dunkin Donuts. In Halifax. In Canada. There was no way that had been there before. When she had driven all across the states, straight to Miami, she had seen so many Dunkin Donuts, always made it a landmark to point them out. Because in Canada they had things like Pizza Delight and Tim Hortons and...not Dunkin Donuts.

If there was any form of upside to this afternoon after getting on the wrong bus or missing a stop and leaving her younger sister alone, not to mention being totally and utterly lost with no money, at least she could tell everyone that Halifax actually a Dunkin Donuts.

Then, it occurred to her, that she had never actually been inside of a Dunkin Donuts. Never. She'd always wanted to go inside of one and, as they had been travelling through the states the year before, she had wondered what they really looked like inside. Well, apparently, Halifax had one. And she was alone. And lost.

She stared at the unnatural Dunkin Donuts.

Gwen looked up and down the road to see if there was some kind of a crosswalk to get her to the other side. It was then when she discovered how wide the road was and how crowded with cars and bright yellow taxis it was. She then watched the crammed cars and taxis, in the four lane road, zoom back and forth in mesmerization.

She must've really taken the wrong bus, for all of her time living in Halifax, there were only three lines per road on the highway and barely any yellow taxis. So, somehow, some way, she had discovered this absolute random and completely brand new section of Halifax. A small city that resembled San Francisco but was nowhere near its size.

This section of Halifax looked nothing like the rest of Halifax. It was all coming into her lines of vision now. The buildings were too tall, too rickety. The alleys too wide, the street to thick with the automobiles of yellow and black. The sidewalks, as she now saw, were even too crowded. The windows at the front of all the stores were suddenly filled to the brim with objects that she could see. Gwen had to blink several times as she stared around the long street. This didn't look anything like Halifax. It looked like downtown New York.

Gwen turned and started to walk down the sidewalk when she saw a crosswalk and light a few meters down. She craned her neck up to look at the stunningly high buildings for a few moments before she became Adrian Monk and was forced to look down. If she was going to be lost in this random section of Halifax, lost in a crowd of total strangers, her heart in her throat, she was at least going to see the inside of a Dunkin Donuts. Because of her terror to look up at the tall brick buildings, she instead focused on the people around her.

A lot of people were going to Mayforce Con. Too many for her to count. She smiled and saluted her fellow nerds as she passed entire groups of people dressed in stellar Starfleet uniforms, perfect Firebender armour, and incredibly realistic Twi'Lek body paint. She had never seen so many of her kind in one place, as she had never actually been to a comic convention herself. It made her slightly jealous that she wasn't able to go, and she watched in envy as three men in full Stormtrooper armour parted the crowds of the street coldly and perfectly acted.

At least she was wearing a Hogwarts sweater. There were no 'Harry Potter' cosplayers, as she soon noticed. No robes of black with the iconic crests of the Hogwarts houses, no people in skull-like masks with black hoods. Not even a single Hermione Granger who, to her, was the most over-done cosplay ever. No one was dressed as a particular character either.

As Gwen moved down the sidewalk, she noticed that the people in cosplay were just vague characters. Starfleet officers, 'Star Wars' aliens, Rivendell Elves, and other bizarre aliens. No Harley Quinns or Darth Vaders. No 'Fortnite' or 'Overwatch' characters. Just people that would exist within those universes.

It was weird. But Gwen didn't really care.

She looked back over her shoulder, past two cosplayers who looked to Gwen like Klingon Duras Sisters cosplayers, and could still see the Dunkin Donuts. She reached the edge of the sidewalk where it curved around to another street, and waited to cross the road with four cosplayers dressed as blue-skinned Andorians. Gwen looked back down the busy street and froze. The street went on and on forever, the skyscrapers towering towards the sky.

The street looked like something from 'Elf'.

She waited, bouncing on her tiptoes with the cosplayers, who she nodded to with a smile. She looked up at the Andorians and saluted them. The beeping began across the crosswalk and Gwen crossed the crowded street.

They passed a black car and in the corner of her eye, Gwen saw someone that looked just like Samuel L Jackson from 'Pulp Fiction'. She laughed in spite of herself. She had never even seen 'Pulp Fiction'. All she knew was that Nick Fury said the f-word too much and that Uma Thurman inspired Fallout Boy to write a hit tune.

When she reached the other side, she split off from the cosplayer and jogged down the sidewalk to the Dunkin Donuts. She payed close attention to her backpack, just in case her phone started vibrating.

Right now, all she wanted was for her phone to start vibrating. For anyone to call her. Anyone. It could be a telemarketer for all she cared, all she wanted was a way to tell her mom where she was. Once she had wi-fi in the Dunkin Donuts, she would try again. Over and over again. Until someone finally picked up.

She ran all the way past the McDonalds and the Pizza Hut until she reached the Dunkin Donuts. Panting, leaning over slightly, she turned and faced the small restaurant. Then, she pushed on the flat door and entered, wandering through the store.

It didn't look that special. It wasn't nearly as colourful as she would've liked. It looked just like her Subway back home, with bland wooden coloured walls and pictures of food. The benches, booths, were solid and hard without cushions, also coloured to light brown wood. The ordering area had a walkway lines with brown straps, the very back of the store held the counter. Dark brown panelling across the counter, circular pink logos hanging from the ceiling, rows and rows of donuts all across the right of the counter.

To Gwen, it looked like sad and rejected Tim Hortons.

There were three people lined up at the counter. Two were male Klingon cosplayers, complete with stunningly realistic wild black hair in a mass behind their brown ridged foreheads, their boots with two toes and their armour black and silver, padded across their chests and legs. The two Klingon cosplayers were pushing and shoving one another, shouting while a bored looking man in an orange Dunkin Donuts uniform. The third person in line was an average looking woman, also looking bored, in a pantsuit of blue pinstripes. Gwen stood back a bit to watch the Klingon cosplayers argue and shout. In actual Klingon.

It was common knowledge that Klingon was a real language you could learn. Most Trekkies, if not all, were fascinated by the language and learned at least one word to incorporate into their everyday conversations. Gwen's own parents had once learned a lot of Klingon, but now could only remember one word, the only word Gwen knew: Qapla'. Success.

The two cosplayers finally settled and ordered two tall bloodwines in English. A classic Klingon drink. Gwen snorted behind her hand and the woman in the suit stared at her briefly. The man behind the counter blinked.

"What do you think we sell here?" he asked.

"You sell what we order!" one cosplayer cried, raising a fist.

"That's not how it works at all," the man behind the counter sighed. "Listen, you want your fancy bloodwine? Why don't you go find yourself a replicator, okay?"

The two Klingons 'ahhhed' and laughed heartily.

"We want bloodwine! We've had a long and hard day on the Planet N'Vak, we expect a victory drink for the blood we spilled in glorious battle!" the first Klingon announced.

"Uh-huh," the man said.

Gwen was finding this too good to be true and was busting a gut from trying not to laugh. Not only were these two cosplayers were perfect actors, the guy behind the counter was totally a Trekkie and he was so going along with it.

"Listen," the man said. "You want bloodwine? Fine. But you should buy it somewhere else. We only serve donuts at this particular restaurant."

The Klingons stared at one another.

"Only measly and weakling donuts?" the second cosplayer breathed.

"With girly sprinkles and stupid themes of peanut butter?" the first cried. "Nobody told us this!"

"The store is literally called 'Dunkin Donuts', guys," The man was beginning to sound slightly impatient. "What did you think we sold?"

The Klingon cosplayers stared at one another and whispered in fast Klingon. Gwen folded her arms and grinned at them. They then straightened up and shoved the coins they had slapped in the counter back into their pockets.

"Fine then! Your weak donuts are not for the public! We are high above such pathetic foods!" one snapped.

"We will drink bloodwine and the hearts of our enemies as our donuts!" the other cried.

The man behind the counter. "You do that. But not here,"

"Why here? Everything is so..." One cosplayer looked around with a nose already wrinkled from the makeup. "Human."

The Klingon cosplayers snorted and turned out of the line, storming by the spot where Gwen was standing, grumbling in Klingon. Gwen grinned at them as they passed by but they didn't seem to notice her. She gripped her backpack straps, bit her lip, spun around and took the chance just as they reached the door.

"Qapla'!"

The Klingon cosplayers stopped, halfway out the door. They slowly, simultaneously, at the exact moment, turned and looked at Gwen. She grinned and bounced on her toes.

The cosplayers then smiled pointed teeth at her and nodded, answering back- "Qapla'!"

And they were gone. Gwen sighed and turned back to the man behind the counter with a big smile, expecting him to laugh and say the same. But he didn't. In fact, there was a frown on his face.

"You speak Klingon?"

"One word," Gwen laughed.

"Okay," The man folded his arms as the woman in the suit stepped up to the counter to order. He gave Gwen a looked with a cocked eyebrow. "Are you gonna buy something?"

The smile faded from the girl's face immediately.

"Um... No, I just-"

"You saw Klingons in the window and decided to come in?"

"No! I mean, I didn't see them until I came in and- I've never been in a Dunkin' Donuts-"

"Well, you kinda have to buy something to stay in here," the man said exasperated. "Don't expect to see anymore Klingons, alright? Either use the bathroom or I'll have to show you the door."

Gwen was taken aback by his rudeness. She frowned at him and her mouth opened slightly. "I thought you would've thought that was cool,"

"Cool? A bunch of Klingons coming in here and holding up my job for some drink we don't even serve?" the man snapped.

He smiled at the woman in the suit and took her order and money. Gwen stood silently, completely confused.

"They were- they were just cosplayers,"

"I gave you instructions, now obey them, alright kid?" the man behind the counter snapped. The woman in the suit turned and gave a snobbish look at Gwen.

"Ugh. Teenagers," she groaned.

Gwen gave her the exact same snobbish look and said loudly- "Ugh. Businesswomen,"

The next thing she knew, she was massaging the back of her neck from where the man had scruff-held it, standing outside the Dunkin Donuts.

"Fine. Be a sexist nerd who only thinks guys can like 'Trek'. Totally. Have fun being alone," she grumbled to herself. She stared back into the Dunkin Donuts where a group of Starfleet cosplayers had entered.

As she peered through the store windows, she was shocked to see the man excited to see the Starfleet written-up-for-dead-Red Shirts, greeting them with a smile.

"What the-?" Gwen breathed, fogging up the glass. "Oh, yeah, Red Shirts of expendability are great but Klingons? Nah, Klingons suck. Geez. They were just acting a part you dumb-"

"Are you going to do pot now?"

Gwen turned and the businesswoman was standing outside the store with a cup of coffee, that snobbish face still on her. She reminded Gwen a lot of Narcissa Malfoy the way she was described, blonde with the look of something rotten under her nose. Gwen backed away from the glass.

"I dunno, are you?" she shot back.

"You teens have no manners. You need some respect. That man you were holding up gave you orders, you need to know your place. Now, get out of here and do your drugs somewhere else,"

"Yeah. And as soon as I find out how to get drugs, use them, and then become a total pain like you, I'll do that," Gwen snapped. The woman glared and turned on her heel, walking away, her black heels clicking against the pavement.

Gwen folded her arms and glowered at the woman, walking back the other direction. She wanted to go home. Klingon cosplayers or not. She still had no idea where she was, her first Dunkin Donuts kicked her out, and she still had so much homework to do. So much. How was she supposed to fit in a whole four chapter unit on cells in two nights? How was that supposed to get into her head? And what about her trumpet audition for the youth ensemble? When was that gonna get done? That was due in two weeks!

Gwen buried her face in her hands and fell down on the sidewalk, crouching over her knees, sobbing into them. People walked around her, staring down at her, never bothering or touching her.

She simply sobbed. Large, gulping, gasping sobs as the tears leaked from her face. Hot. Wet. Her head was pounding. She just wanted to go home. She was done. She pulled out her phone again, her hands trembling violently. She called her mom once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Over and over again.

She shouted angrily at her phone, her knees trembling. She buried her face back into her knees, crying and shaking.

Pray, just pray. Pray to God.

She prayed. She prayed in stuttering tongues, tongues that in her belief- only God could hear.

She had a weird feeling all of a sudden. A strange feeling.

Like there was somebody she knew nearby.

"I wanna go home," she breathed into her knees, "Please, God, I just wanna go home."

There was a voice in the back of her mind. A small, gentle voice. Just small enough for her to hear. It was a voice like a feeling. A feeling that could not be heard exactly. Only felt. That weird feeling. Look up.

Look up.

Gwen, slowly but surely, her face stained with hot wet tears, her eyes puffy and red. She was staring through legs and legs along the sidewalk. She squinted, tears continued to leak out of her eyes. Through the legs, she saw one black dot. Just one black dot. No legs. A dark black spot.

Gwen frowned. She slowly extended her legs and rose up through the crowd. That weird feeling spread through her body as she felt her feet take the lead. A black spot in a sea of legs. Her eyes narrowed through a crowd of Vulcan cosplayers, all with their hands behind their backs and snootily looking at the normal dressed people around him. They were just as good actors as the Klingons had been.

Gwen slowly pushed through the crowd to where she had seen the black spot in the forest of legs near the ground.

There was a large scarlet newspaper stand just a few feet away, surrounded with people. It was standing there on the sidewalk, a large wooden awning and faded paint. It stood, simple and plain as a newspaper stand could be, back to to the busy traffic and facing the inside of the sidewalk. She could see the newspapers hanging form its wooden stakes, displayed neatly along front.

Gwen had never seen this kind of newspaper stand before. She paused, caught in a crowd of more Klingon cosplayers. She followed their movement behind her for a few moments. How many cosplayers were in Halifax? She'd seen over twenty by now. Mayforce was a tiny con. How were there so many nerds and geeks in one place?

The weird feeling took over and Gwen turned around to face the stand. A portly man in a grey windbreaker and brown plaid golfer's cap was sitting behind the stand, upon a stool, rocking back and forth with a dazed expression and a wide goofy grin. He looked drunk. Really drunk.

Gwen froze and stared straight ahead. Someone was buried in the crowd ahead, but they were much taller than everyone else, walking away, all in black. From what she could see, through the thick swamp of heads, the person had long black hair, but only a bit below the shoulders at the back. She couldn't place her finger on it, but something about the back of that head looked so familiar.

Her attention was taken away by the swaying, overweight man behind in the newspaper stand.

The goofy grin on his face was unnerving, almost as if it was placed there by someone else. His small eyes were distant.

Gwen frowned and clutched her backpack straps, sniffling back her leftover tears, staring at the man. Normally, she would run away. But for some reason, the same bizarre feeling took over her body. Her heart. Her mind. This wasn't alcohol, was it? She had never seen anyone really drunk. Never.

Gwen took a step forward. One tiptoe, close to the stand. Another tiptoe. Carefully, quietly, avoiding the stares. As she moved closer like a kitten across the cement to the man, she could hear him mumbling under his breath. His voice slurred, distorted, unnatural.

"Yes, go ahead, take one, have a nice day, sure, fine, evening, have a good dinner, they're free," he mumbled with a dreamy expression on his face. Gwen, throat dry, approached the very front of the stand.

"Um, excuse me," she whispered in a meek voice.

"Yes, have one, I don't care, very interesting suit,"

"Sir?"

"You should cut your hair you know, have a good day, good night,"

Gwen knocked on the wood of newspaper stand's counter loudly, her fist shaking slightly.

"Sir, are you okay?"

The man in the windbreaker suddenly screamed out and snapped back to life. Gwen physically jumped back, squealing. The portly man had broken into a sweat, his face had returned to a natural, conscious state. He began to wheel around, looking up and down the street wildly.

"Hey! HEY! I'VE BEEN ROBBED! I'VE BEEN ROBBED!" he shrieked, his fat face suddenly red with anger.

Gwen stood, rigid, still as a pole, her arms pinned to her side, staring at the man with wide eyes. What was this guy's deal? This wasn't alcohol... Marijuana? Did marijuana do that to you?

The man took in a few deep breaths and calmed down when he realized only a sixteen year old girl was standing there. He inhaled for seven seconds and then exhaled for seven more. Quite like the exercise Gwendolyn did during her stressful times. What she felt like doing right now.

"Oh," the man said. "H-Hi. Hey- Hey- You didn't see where he went, did you?"

Gwen moved closer to the stand, the man seemed to be in a state that was close enough to sanity- but not close enough for her to go right back up to the counter again.

"Um," she mumbled. "Who?"

"That man! The man who just hear- He robbed me! I swear it! He robbed me!" the man cried. He continued to look up and down the streets, as if his only child had just run away from him. "Tall- black hair- I- I don't remember the details-"

"You don't?" Gwen asked, actually slightly interested. "But- but how do you know he robbed you?"

"Because- Oh darn, wait, I'll think of it," the man said, putting a hand to the pudgy bridge of his nose. He scrunched up his face and thought.

Then, he said nodding. "Tall, black hair, big nose. Like, really big nose. And he- well- I don't remember the other details- He had this weird outfit on..."

Gwen stepped one pace closer. "And...how do you know he robbed you?"

"Because- Oh shoot- the details- um- He did something to my brain- Hypnotized me or something," His eyes were still closed, his nose bridge still pinched. "Okay, yeah, he came up. Asked for a paper. Had this really thick accent, I don't remember what it was. He asked for a paper- I told him the prices. He asked for a free one. I told him, under NO exceptions were papers given out for free!" The man held out his arms. "This stuff don't come cheap you know! Getting this stuff of computers and outta trees and all that! I TOLD him! No exceptions! Then-"

He looked around and beckoned Gwen closer. She barely moved another step. She still wasn't sure she trusted this guy. His story made sense but that dazed grin was still burned in her brain, like Link's creepy smile after his vision in "Twilight Princess" where a bunch of versions of his girlfriend randomly fell out of the sky. It was weird, random, and completely un-see-able.

"He- he started speaking this freaky tongue and then- Then he scowled at me and- and I blacked out and- and here we are!" the man finished.

"And now! NOW he's gone! I'll bet you anything he hypnotized me or something into giving him that paper!"

"I thought hypnotism involved a focal point," Gwen said.

"So did I! But it was- it was freaky. Like those guys working in the X-Files. You know, before it was discontinued,"

"Discontinued?" Gwen said, still trying to make up her mind about wether or not to believe this man's story. "You mean the show ended?"

The man gave her a puzzled look. "Show?"

"Yeah," Gwen said, her mind still on Link's totally messed up psychedelic vision of flying Ilias. "The show. 'The X-Files'. It had a show, a reboot to continue the story, then ended."

The man leaned a hand on his fist and his brow furrowed far over his eyes. "What the heck are you talking about? Mulder and Sculley never had a show."

"Yes, they did," Gwen said fervently, frowning herself. "You know 'The truth is out there'?"

"What truth?"

"Dude!" Gwen was becoming rather impatient. "You literally just mentioned 'The X-Files'! It's a show! What? Are you thinking it's an actual organization or something?"

"It IS a real organization!"

Drugs, definitely drugs. Gwen took a few steps back. "Um... Yeah...okay...I'll just be going then... Good luck with your weird robbery..."

"Kid, are you feeling okay?"

"Am I feeling okay?! Are you serious?! You looked like freaking Link from the floating Illia vision just now! A guy spoke weird tongues and you blacked out? And now you don't even know about 'The X-Files'? RIGHT after you mentioned it?"

"I am telling you! That man robbed me using some kind of- of- magic!" the newspaper man stammered.

"You're insane!" Gwen cried.

"No, you're insane!" the newspaper man cried out. "The X-Files were a real organization, only a fool would question otherwise! Mulder wrote a book! Know what, I can give you a link to his book, if you want and-"

"Mulder's not a real person!" Gwen shouted. "Listen, I love fandom as much as the next person but I'm not a complete brain-case! I understand perfectly well that it's just a TV show!"

She paused for a second to collect herself after unintentionally quoting 'Galaxy Quest'. She took in some deep breaths and crossed her arms.

"You have a good time with your magical robber, alright? I'm gonna find a bus back to the city outskirts, okay? Have a good-"

The words were caught in her throat when she looked down at the newspapers, spread out at equal distances across the stand. The newspaper man looked over the counter to see what Gwen was looking at. What he saw was news. Plain, ordinary, everyday news. News he sold at a cheap price that for some reason, people still felt the need to steal from him.

What Gwen saw was something far more extraordinary. Unbelievable. Unreal. Her eyes narrowed, squinted like she was trying to look through the newspaper stand. She couldn't believe what she was saying. She knelt right down before the papers, her hands shaking as she slowly removed one from its slot.

Her brain was dying. That was it. She was crazy. She was dreaming. She was- was having an emotional breakdown. There was no way, no way in all of the world, in all of the real and nonfictional world, that newspaper said- "FORREST GUMP RETURNS TO THE PADDLE". And there was no way that the nameplate said- "NEW YORK TIMES".

But it did. It did say that. She was staring down at a colour photo of Tom Hanks shaking hands with a blonde woman in a suit. He was dressed like Forrest Gump, had his eyes closed like Forrest Gump always had in photos, a vacant expression like Forrest Gump. But he was older. Perhaps his older sixties or early seventies. It really did have bold black letters in "NEW YORK TIMES". Gwen's heart was pounding in her throat as she stood up carefully, her eyes glued to the newspaper's front.

"How'd you do it?" she breathed in awe. "It looks- It looks just like him."

"That's because it is him, crazy girl," the newspaper man chuckled. "Him and the President."

Gwen stopped shaking and her eyes swept up to meet the man's. "The President?"

"Yup,"

"That's- That's not the American President,"

"Yes it is. Read the article. Says right there," The man, to Gwen's immense annoyance seemed to be utterly enjoying himself.

Gwen's eyes swept back down on the mock New York paper and began to read the article.

_A man with a life for the ages, Forrest Gump, father of Forrest Gump Jr, has returned to his life on the ping pong court. A life that he abandoned after being told it was not acceptable in the army. For a short amount of time in the 70s, Gump was an icon of the ping-pong court and he has long since played it. But now, Gump is returning to a life of beating paddle-balls, and to the shock of all of America, his reflexes are as quick as ever. His feats were once highly noticeable on Vulcan and a member of the Vulcan Ping-Pong Team for Intergalactic Table Tennis has agreed to help sponsor the now sixty-eight-year-old shrimp fisherman. Gump spoke to the NYT on the matter.  
"I think," he said with that usual deadpan face and Alabama accent, "that Vulcans got a good thing with table-tennis. Their logic is real helpful when that ball bounces back to them. I'm not Vulcan, so I don't know how it works. I think it has somethin' to do with their ears. They got pretty pointy ears, you know. Feels good to have a paddle but I don't think attention is needed. I play for fun, not profit. Bubba's family and I got all the profit we need from each other. And that's all I have to say about that."_

Gwen looked back up at the newspaper man.

"Did you write this whole paper?"

"I don't write 'em. I sell 'em,"

"But- But Vulcans AND Forrest Gump? AND a female President? Not that I'm complaining about that part- Wait- What?!" Gwen suddenly slammed the paper back on the counter. "Donald freaking Trump is the President! This is all fake! Forrest Gump isn't a real person! There's no Intergalactic Table Tennis!"

"Uh, Excuse me,"

Gwen and the newspaper man both turned to the right and Gwen nearly jumped out of her skin.

Her heart had grown very cold. Her hands suddenly became incredibly clammy. The organs, systems, and very soul of her body began to shake. For standing right next to her, on her very right, was Jeff Goldblum.

It was Jeff Goldblum.

THE Jeff Goldblum.

The curly hair. The squat nose. The new silver beard. The dark eyes. The already excessive use of the phrase 'uh'.

This was not happening.

Gwen started to pinch her sweaty arm, staring at the black-clad actor in the black, heavy rimmed glasses. This was crazy. What was she supposed to say? What would he think if he caught her staring? Would he mind if she asked for a picture?

"Mind if I, uh, have a paper?"

"Sure thing, Dr Malcolm!" the newspaper man cried cheerfully, receiving Jeff Goldlum's five dollar bill and handing him a Forrest Gump newspaper. Gwen let out a sigh of relief that luckily no one noticed, and started smiling from a lifted weight

It wasn't Jeff Goldblum. He had just looked like that from the side. Some guy named Mr Malcolm who just looked and stood...and...talked...exactly like...Jeff Goldblum...

Wait a second.

Dr MALCOLM?

The heavy, nervous, overwhelming weight of anxiety crushed Gwen's shoulders again.

"Hey, crazy kid," the newspaper man chuckled. "Don't tell me you don't know this guy? This kid doesn't know about Forrest Gump or the X-Files or anything. Kid, this is Dr Ian Malcolm. You know this guy, right?"

Gwen's jaw dropped and she felt faint. The whole world was spinning as the man turned and looked at her, smiling.

It was Jeff Goldblum. It was his smile. But- But it wasn't HIM. It was-

"Y-Yeah," Gwen stammered, her voice tiny and meek. "H-Him I kn-know."

"Hey, don't be so nervous," the Jeff Goldblum man laughed. He reached over and patted Gwen's rigid arm. Something like electricity shot through her body. "I'm not Alan Grant, you know."

"N-No, I know," Gwen whispered, her voice leaving her mind.

He was real. Ian Malcolm was real. Ian Malcolm was real. But- But how? He was- a written character! He wasn't real! Only problem was the fact that-

"You're- You're really Ian Malcolm," Gwen blurted out, unable to contain her ever rising anxiety that caused her knees to shake. "Right there! You're him?! The same Ian Malcolm who got crushed by a bamboo bathroom? The same Ian Malcolm who calls himself a chaotician? The same Ian Malcolm who hit on Ellie Sattler, took his daughter by accident to an island filled with dinosaurs, and is going to speak on trial for the fate of the dinosaurs made by Jurassic World in June?! You saw dinosaurs? Real dinosaurs? Really real frigging dinosaurs?"

There was silence. The man who could be Ian Malcolm (who could be a real live absolutely-three-dimensional version of Ian Malcolm) laughed.

"See? See, uh there it is. The essence, uh, of chaos. This girl, uh, knows a lot about me and-"

The Man Who Could Be Ian Malcolm said.

He paused and chuckled slightly, but to Gwen it sounded nervous. She should be the one who's nervous! This was potentially Ian Malcolm! Potentially. Only potentially. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not. It didn't feel like a dream but if it was...she didn't want to wake up any time soon.

"Uh, how do you know that I'm going on trial next month?"

"Because of the...trailers..." Gwen said sheepishly. "It's a really big deal, you know, and-"

"A big deal? Seriously? What's this all about, Mr Malcolm-"

"Hey, can you, uh, stop talking. Kid, you shouldn't know about that. Who have you been talking to?"

He was surveying her over his thick glasses and Gwen began to stumble backwards.

This wasn't real, this wasn't real, this could not be happening, this could NOT be real. But something clicked into place. A feeling that was once weird but now was completely out of place.

She was out of place. Gwen was frigid but her knees were trembling as she backed away down the sidewalk away. It was overwhelming. But she wasn't sure why. She couldn't process this. She couldn't even begin. Ian Malcolm- real- it wasn't true- it couldn't be true- he was written on a page- in a novel- He was fiction!

"Kid, who have you been talking to?" Ian Malcolm repeated.

Gwen wasn't exactly sure what happened next. Her fear had taken over and suddenly, she was running in the complete opposite direction. She had never run so fast in all of her life, her mind moving just as fast. She couldn't even think properly. There was too much going on in her head. Ian Malcolm was real. Forrest Gump was real. The X-Files was real. Her eyes were opened in an all new way as she bolted down the sidewalk and her heart was going the speed of infinity. As she looked around from cosplayer to cosplayer, she was crushed under the realization that they were not cosplayers. They were real Klingons. Real Starfleet officers. She was surrounded by aliens.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, holy crap, holy crap. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not real. There is no way in all of the world-"

She looked up at the buildings and ran faster, round the corners, shoving past very real aliens. The buildings... No wonder they were tall. No wonder they reminded her of New York towers.

They _were_ New York towers.

Gwen froze on a corner, staring around the city. What was going on? How could she have possibly gone from Halifax to New York? With Klingons? Actual, real, Klingons.

She shoved past a few more people and bolted down the sidewalk to the far left and stumbled back, her hands clapping over her mouth in shock. She was staring up at a long street of buildings that touched the clouds, with dizzying ninety-degree sides. An image she had only seen in the movies. But it hadn't been those buildings she was looking at.

It was a towering skyscraper with crystal windows and a top shaped like an 'L' with a long balcony. And attached to that balcony was a great symbol of a bold 'A' with an arrow across its middle.

Avengers Tower.

THE Avengers Tower.

Gwen stared blankly at the iconic building, punching herself, kicking herself. Somehow, some way, she had found her way to New York. Some kind of...alternate New York. The Avengers were real. Starfleet was real. Jurassic Park had happened. Luke Skywalker was a real person.

She had really shaken hands with Rorschach on that bus.

Her face cracked into an enormous grin and she crouched down and started shaking her fists, squealing through her teeth. Gwen started squealing, screaming, jumping up and down, adrenaline shooting through her body.

She shook hands with Rorschach. With Rorschach.

She met Ian Malcolm. Ian Malcolm.

Klingons spoke to her.

She was standing in front of Avengers Tower.

This was the best day of her entire life.


	3. The Diner's Prince

About a week or two previous to the arrival of Gwen in Charactia, a figure sloshed through the mud, shivering violently, from both anxiety and cold. He had caught cold about an hour ago, and was sniffling and coughing privately.

So it did rain in the desert. The rumours were true. Once night had fallen in the desert, the rain poured in icy buckets and the wind howled. He stared up and down the empty single highway that ran through the Arizona desert of the other world, arms held stiffly by his side, hands in fists, soaking wet and freezing.

He was starving. Had been all day. But, by now, he was in quite a lot of pain. He wanted to keel over and vomit from the lack of food in his already thin stomach but he scolded himself in his head. He wasn't weak. Hunger was nothing. It was only twelve at night. He could walk for a few more hours.

When Diana had found the figure, he had come to her. She worked, alongside her husband and brother, in a small diner that she kept in sixties style, along the side of the Arizona highway. She was Spanish and in her fifties. A woman with a round face, a thin build, light brown skin, and black hair piled high on her head, Diana's English was much better than her brother's but her accent was incredibly thick.

Diana's diner, which really had no name, was a one room building with a checker-board floor, purple and blue fluorescent lighting, cushioned aqua-coloured booths, records of famous musicians of both American and Mexican fame, and a long silver bar with red stools that stretched along the left side. There was also a small gas station out front with two pumps; one for trucks and one for cars. Her brother, Alonso, pumped gas for the visitors while her husband, Martin, cooked most of the food with two other employees.

There was a back to the diner, where Diana and Martin lived and a guest room. They were perfectly happy living alone.

There was no one else in the diner, but the singular building stood in the dark and pouring rain of the desert with its bright neon lights shining through the windows like a beacon. Diana stood, in her blue dress and white apron uniform, mopping the black and white floors. She stared through the front of the diner, which was mostly made of windows. Martin aided her in cleaning the counters. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a black goatee and no hair.

"Alonso shouldn't have left," Diana complained loudly in Spanish. "Honestly, people always break down this time of night."

"Do you think anyone is going to be out there this time of night anyway?" Martin responded with a laugh.

"There are crazy people out there,"

"Like us?"

"Like us,"

Once she had finished mopping the floors, Diana began to scrub the long windows that surrounded the bright red entry door. The door had a set of steps leading down to the gas station area.

She rubbed the windows in smooth, circular motions, occasionally staring out onto the empty highway lit by their fluorescent lamps. She whistled to herself, moving the rag around the first window, all in a perfect pattern so not a single spot was looked over. When she reached the center of the glass, she moved it around across the middle. She wiped clean the spot right before her face after glancing wth the empty road.

She dropped the rag in shock when she removed it and saw a dark figure standing exactly where it hadn't been a minute ago.

"Martin,"

"Yeah?"

"Martin, there's someone out there,"

"What kinda car?"

"No- no car. Just- just a person,"

"Just a person?"

Martin dropped his own cloth and raced to the window beside Diana to look out the dark figure, all in black, soaking wet. The figure began to stride across the parking lot towards the diner.

The two took steps back away from the window.

The figure examined the gas pumps as if they were completely alien to them before they came right up to the diner.

Diana grasped her mop, as she always did when something bizarre happened. She still remembered that night a band of drunk Klingons entered the diner at three in the morning while the diner was supposed to be closed.

Diana backed against her husband, shaking, as the door opened slowly, letting in a gust of freezing wind and rain. The figure entered.

The man closed the door and stood, staring at the husband and wife.

"Are you open?" he said in a deep accent that Diana recognized as British.

"No, but we can be," Diana said kindly. She noticed that the man was shivering violently, his face pale, his lips and nails an icy blue.

But he was already an odd-looking man to begin with. His hair was jet-black and reached his shoulders, his skin a sallow shade. His eyes were cold and black, like tunnels, bagged with lilac circles. He was tall, thin, and gaunt, his nose was hooked, and he was staring through the curtain of drenched hair at the Diana and Martin.

He was dressed oddly too. He had on what looked to Diana like a long black cloak, soggy and heavy from rain, over top of a tight, black frock coat with buttons stretching right down his arms and neck. His had on a black cravat tie tied underneath his coat collar. The look on his face was fathomless but Diana felt his oversized nose looked slightly red and swollen, like he had a cold.

"Do you need anything?" Diana asked politely, stepping forward, terrified on the inside.

"Somewhere to sit for a few minutes," the man said, barely moving his lips.

"You will have to buy something,"

"If you will not let me stay, then I will continue walking," the man snapped.

"Well, sir, we cannot let anyone sit in here for-"

"Fine!" the man spat, bearing slightly uneven teeth. He put a hand into his cloak and started to rummage around. Diana and Martin watched quietly, slightly unnerved by him. He had gone from very quiet to rather bitter in less than ten seconds. The man continued to search his robes and pockets on his coat. His hands folded before him.

"I'm afraid," he said, his voice returning to calm, "that I have no money."

"We can't help you," Martin shook his head. "I'm sorry."

The man straightened himself up and looked around the diner, wrinkling his large nose. "What is this?"

"It is our home. It is also diner," Diana said with a scowl, disliking the look of distaste on the man's face. "If you have any problems with it-"

"I've never seen anything like it," the man said.

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shuddered, his face still blank. He looked to the right at the wall with the colourful records and posters. "I do know what those are. Only, I've never heard of any of those people in my life. Not that they matter."

Diana and Martin exchanged raised eyebrows.

The man moved a bit closer to the wall, flexing his fingers. He squinted at a record cover with a singing man in a white suit crested with rhinestones, black hair greased back from his head.

"What in the name of Merlin is that?"

"That is Elvis," Diana said indignantly.

"Who?"

"Elvis Presley?" Martin asked. "Have you been living under rock?"

"What?" the man said, curling his lip. "Like this place?"

Diana's mouth fell open and Martin cracked his knuckles, pursing his lips.

"This is our home," he snapped.

The man ignored them. He wiped his nose again and coughed a few times. "I don't understand how this could be appealing," he said, gesturing to Elvis' picture. "He's dressed like a woman."

"No he is not!" Diana cried. "And why would you care who is dressed like a woman and who is not? It is 2018!"

The man froze and the sneer of his face faded. He turned to face the couple, who were staring at him with utmost loathing. His mouth opened slightly.

"What year did you say it was?"

Diana and Martin glanced at one another and back to the man. "2018," they chorused.

The man suddenly looked very ill. "It's 2018... Now?"

"Yes..." Diana said.

The man paused and frowned. He opened his mouth and took in a gulp of air before he sneezed so loudly that it made both Diana and Martin jump. One of the purple lights along the bar top began to flicker. Diana took a step towards the man and pulled out a hankie from her pocket. The man straightened up and shook his head.

"I'm fine. What were you saying about it being 2018?"

"Sir, you look ill-"

"I'm fine," he hissed. "What were you saying?"

He sneezed again and it made a sound like some small explosive. Diana jumped back against her husband and they stared around as all of the lights in the diner began to flicker constantly.

"Bless you," Diana said quietly.

"It's not really 2018, is it?" the man asked, once he had collected himself and the lights had stopped flickering.

"Yes, it is," Diana said fervently.

The man turned and tapped a diner table uncertainly. He wiped his nose again, coughed, and looked at the records with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't believe you,"

"How could you not believe us?!" Martin yelled.

"Because you are Muggles who live in the middle of forsaken desert," the man sneered. "Clearly your brains are as empty and barren as the landscape outside. Now, if you're not going to let me sit, I have no reason to be in this place anymore."

Diana and Martin were taken aback by the stranger's nasty attitude, even more taken aback by being referred to as "Muggles", whatever they were. They had been called humans, mortals, normies, normos, and civvies. But never Muggles.

Diana cleared her throat as the man spun on his heel, his long black cloak trailing quite a ways behind him, making his way towards the door.

"Sir, you are ill. Why don't- why don't we make you some tea? It will be on us,"

The man paused with his hand on the door. He was still shivering but he stared back with a look of disbelief.

"What?"

"Tea," Diana said kindly with a small smile. "We will make you tea and you will not have to pay."

Martin nodded quickly to show his support. The two were horribly terrified of whoever this was but he obviously very sick and Diana was not going to turn him away.

The man's fingers flexed and he kept his black eyes on Diana's brown ones. She blinked when he did not. There was something slightly mad about the man's eyes...something not quite sane.

"I can't stay long,"

"No, of course not," Diana said understandingly.

"One cup?" the man said quietly. He looked ready to break at a run but at the same time, he was keeping his entire body very still and expressionless. There was something in his eyes, that made him look so very surprised anyone would offer him tea.

Diana nodded.

The man took his hand off of the door and straightened up, sweeping over to a booth and sitting in one swift move. He folded his hands in his lap and stared straight ahead. "This does not mean I trust or like you,"

Diana and Martin rolled their eyes.

"No, of course not," Diana said.

"One cream. No sugar,"

Diana elbowed Martin and he nodded, dashing to the back kitchen to prepare the tea for the bizarre man at the booth. She moved closer to the table and smiled at the man, who was now very focused on the records on the walls.

"No, I don't believe I am familiar with any of these Muggles," he said.

"Mu- Muggell? What is a Muggell?"

"Muggle," the man pressed with an impatient voice. "It's what you are."

"Mexican?"

"Normal,"

"Normal?"

"Yes. Normal. Ordinary. Completely average. Nothing special," He smirked at her. "Muggle."

Diana scoffed, shocked by the way he had smirked as if putting her down was amusing, and pointed at the people on the records. "Are they ordinary? No! They are great musicians! Famous! They made great change in the musical world! They are special!"

"Not...to me," the man snarled at her, looking back at a record of Buddy Holly. "I never found an interest in music anyway and certainly not Muggle music. They use music to dwell on how miserable their lives are and how complicated their private lives can be."

"Music is important!" Diana cried.

"Music is a distraction, and I do not find distractions important," the man said icily. "Which is why, in the future, I will not find you important."

Martin returned with a steaming cup of tea in a blue teacup. He sat it before the pale man, whose eyes immediately shot down to look at it. He looked at Diana and made the cuckoo-cuckoo gesture to his head.

"What is this?"

"Tea?" Martin asked, looking down at a nasty, disapproving stare from the man.

"It's too hot,"

"Well. That is too bad," Martin snapped. Diana hissed at him but Martin shrugged.

The man gave a sarcastic smile and looked down at the steaming black tea. He held a blue-nailed hand over its top and whispered a few words that sounded to Diana like an entirely new tongue. He removed his hand and the tea stopped steaming.

"According to my laws, I am forbidden to do that in front of people like you," he said, bringing the tea up and sipping from it. His whole body relaxed. "But seeing as you are in the middle of nowhere, no one would believe you anyway. Unless of course I feel I'm needed to erase your memories, in which I will do so without hesitation."

Martin grasped Diana's arms. "Erase our memories?" he whispered. "You can do that?"

The man didn't answer. There was already a tad more colour coming into his face from the tea.

"Are you one of the X-Men?" Diana said hopefully with a step forward.

The man paused with his tea halfway to the saucer. His black eyes narrowed to slits as he looked up at the couple. "The what?"

"Do not tell me you do not know the X-Men!"

Diana gasped. "They are famous!"

"Obviously not," the man scoffed, continuing to sip his tea.

"Well, whatever planet you are from, they are famous here," Martin broke in.

"I am from Earth," the man said. "What other planet do you assume I'm from? Mars?"

"Oh, no, we have met Martians," Diana said quickly. She shuddered slightly from the memory of Ice Warriors entering their diner because they thought it was a disguised spaceship or something. They nearly destroyed the place.

The man rolled his eyes. "I should hope so. I look nothing like them,"

"So you do know Martians?"

The man seemed to freeze in reality. His eyes had gone very distant and his hand trembled over the teacup handle. "I've met one,"

The tiny bit of colour in his face drained and he looked over his shoulder quickly. He then gulped back the last half of his tea to the shock of the couple and stood up.

"I have to go,"

"Are you sure you do not wish to stay the night?" Diana offered before her husband could stop her.

"You are in cold socks and you already look quite ill."

"I have to go," the man repeated, sweeping off towards the door. Diana pushed Martin forward and he got the message, clearing his throat.

"I could drive you to Ferengi outpost down road an hour," he said.

The man looked back at them and the two smiled nervously. The man swallowed and his stomach suddenly groaned loudly. He winced.

"I can also get you food," Martin added.

"What outpost did you say it was?"

"Ferengi,"

"What is a..." The man paused on his words, frowning. "Ferengi?"

"Little men with big ears and nasty attitude," Diana chuckled.

"How long would it take to walk?"

"Three hours at least," Martin said.

The man looked between them and sniffled. Then he raised his chin, rolling his black eyes again. He sighed. "Fine. But I do not trust you,"

"That's fine," Diana said. She grinned at him and elbowed Martin for him to go to the back kitchen and get some food. "Where are you trying to go?"

"As far away from here as possible," the man said quietly, glancing quickly over his shoulder again.

He looked almost frightened when he did this. He turned and inhaled before sneezing into his arm. The lights in the diner flickered wildly and Diana jumped about two feet into the air when the jukebox at the back of the room suddenly began to blare The Beatles.

"Excuse me," the man said with an angry look, as if sneezing was a sign of mortality and weakness.

"How- how did you do that?" Diana asked with huge eyes, pointing at the back jukebox, still playing 'When I Saw Her Standing There'.

"I didn't do it on purpose," the man snapped. "Now stop asking me useless questions."

Martin returned, caught off guard by the now live jukebox, with a bag of food. The man's weary eyes widened with a hungry look when he saw the bag. Martin handed it to him.

"I have bottle of Tylenol as well," Martin said, handing the man a small bottle with thick pink liquid.

"What is this?" the man said with a disgusted look.

"Medicine,"

The man arched an eyebrow and put the white bag of hot food under his arm, unscrewing the lid. He put his long nose to it and he cringed. He looked at Diana and sighed.

"Very well,"

He then began to heavily chug back the entire bottle.

"Woah, woah!" Diana and Martin screamed, running forward and jumping on him, prying the bottle from his hands. "Stop! WOAH!"

"What?!" the man snarled. "What is your problem?"

"You do not drink all at once!" Martin cried.

"I thought you said it was medicine!" the man yelled furiously.

"Do not drink the entire bottle, that is dangerous," Diana said, screwing the lid back on the bottle.

The man swallowed and then shuddered from the taste of the medicine in his mouth. He wrinkled his nose and tucked the medicine into the bag with his hot food.

"Where I come from, I drink-"

"The entire bottle?" Diana finished, crossing her arms. "I guessed. Mart, would you take him now? He clearly does not wish to stay here any longer."

"Clearly," the man said through his nose.

Martin nodded and kissed Diana on the lips. The man blinked and looked away for a few moments until they were done. Martin opened the door, allowing in the freezing and blowing wind. He was out the door first and the man stayed behind and looked at Diana.

"Yes?" Diana asked, now exasperated with the man's intense staring.

"You cannot tell anyone I was here," he said intensely.

"I won't-"

He stepped towards her and in a quiet, harsh, and almost desperate voice he said- "If anyone, anyone, enters this place looking for me, tell them you do not know who I am. Even if that person claims to be working for the law, you cannot tell them I was here. Understand?"

Diana blinked. "And if I do?"

"They will kill me," the man hissed. "and you. And everyone you love. And they will burn this place to the ground."

There was a silence between them and Diana gulped, nodding slowly. The man nodded and turned, his cloak whipping behind him. He paused again.

"And if a woman in a white coat who smiles too often enters this diner, order everyone inside to run and never look back," he said.

The RV truck that Martin owned, and had used well in the War of 1996, was already parked in the gas station. The man slammed the door, dismounted the steps, and Diana watched through the window as he climbed into the RV with her husband and drive away.

In a horrible split second, she worried she might never see her husband again. She shook away that thought immediately and remembered what that old Rodian who sat in the bar told her:

"In this universe, in our universe of Charactia, there are hundreds of other stories. Other villains, other heroes, other species, other worlds. In this universe, we have barely scratched its surface,"


	4. Welcome to Charactia

I do not own any of the properties used.

Gwen's emotions were heightened as the day progressed. Never had she been so overwhelmed with joy and ecstatic happiness. She didn't even know how she had gotten here but here she was, in an alternate New York where fandom was real.

Normal people would have been excited to simply be in New York City for the first time, but Gwen was sobbing with joy over the fact that she had shaken hands with a real Rorschach, spoken to real Klingons, and had taken about twenty pictures of a real Avengers Tower.

Gwen spent the afternoon wandering downtown New York City, smiling and waving to every nonhuman she saw. Twi'Leks, Cardassians, Rodians, Elves, dwarves, hobbits. She finally had the chance to see how tall she was compared to a grown hobbit and discovered that she finally found people she was taller than. Only by a head, however.

Suddenly, all of the images of fandom on her phone were nothing. They were fiction. No one could really capture the muscular width of a Klingon, the real majestic stances of the Elves. Gwen had soon deleted almost every photo on her phone to make room for the amount of pictures she was about to take. She ran up and down the sidewalks, bounding in and out of stores that belonged to humans and aliens.

Real extra-terrestrial aliens.

As she sat on benches along the roads and videotaped real flying cars, she realized that the possibilities were endless.

If 'Star Trek', 'Star Wars', 'DC', and 'Marvel' all existed, what else could? Anything! She could see real dinosaurs! She had waited her entire life to even have the possibility of seeing one of her favourite animals of all time. Dinosaurs, dragons, aliens, superheroes, wizards, cyborgs, red pills and blue pills! Cats and dogs living together! It was all here! All at her disposal! This day could not get any better!

It did. It did on levels beyond her imagination. As she walked down the road, fear replaced with nothing but joy, she stared up at the oncoming and legendary Empire State Building. She took five pictures of it but knew those photos could not come close to defining how epic it was. How magnificently it stood, how she had to crane her neck up to get the full view, how it pierced the sky like a beautifully crafted needle. But as she snapped one more picture of the incredible building, her eye caught something else.

She nearly dropped her phone as a man jumped from the side of the Empire State Building into the air.

She screamed out. she was sure he was going to commit suicide, as she had read about about such actions for a school project. But instead of falling, he hovered. Then, the man began to soar around the tower in a spiralling motion, a cape of bright scarlet whipping out from his back.

Several people stopped and started to squeal and applaud as Superman dove down and zoomed through the sky directly over the sidewalk where Gwen stood in complete awe and wonder. She watched him fly around the buildings, her chest heaving in disbelief. He didn't look anything like his Henry Cavill counterpart.

He looked so much better.

Muscular, perfect black hair, a charming smile he gave at the street. He looked like Henry Cavill but he just wasn't. He was- he was Superman! Really Superman!

Gwen fumbled with her phone, her hands slippery from sweat and managed to get a little video of Superman flying far away across the New York. At first, she didn't understand why the girls in the comics threw themselves at the Kryptonian's feet. But now, she understood. Now, she was a girl in the comic and he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. The most handsome alien she had ever seen!

She raced down the streets some more. Normally, she would've gotten overtired and would've been heaving for air from all of the running. But here, her energy was infinite and it was never going to end. She found a Klingon restaurant, the iconic Daily Bugle tower (which she videoed for about three minutes, as a very real and very grumpy Jamison was blown up on the hexagonal screens, his JK Simmons voice screaming about Spider-Man across the street), and snapped pictures of faded posters saying VISIT JURASSIC WORLD! all of which has been crudely covered. She passed a large black office building and paused when she read the list of the companies on the sign out front. She laughed loudly, taking a picture of the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company logo.

When she got home, she couldn't wait to show her family. When she got home, all of her friends had to know about this! People had to know that the films and shows in her world had IMPACT! Impact in this world!

But as this thought crossed her mind, she stopped running down the street, transforming it into a quick jog. What would happen if they DID know about this world? Would they accept it? Would they try and CONTROL it using movies and imagination? Maybe this world was kept secret for a reason. Or maybe, from the discussion she had with the man at the newspaper stand, they didn't know that her universe existed. Maybe- maybe this universe had no idea that they were based upon the imaginations of her world!

But, if Starfleet happened in the future, what was it doing in the year 2018? And the quote "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away," made even less sense to her now. Luke had just died? But wasn't that supposed to be a long time ago? How could have just happened in 2018?

And...wait...hadn't Rorschach been killed? In the 80s? How could have shaken hands with him?

She stopped jogging. Was Hogwarts real? It would explain a lot. Like how no one complimented her sweater. The entire Wizarding World had to have been secret! It was probably hiding somewhere. If Hogwarts was real, dragons and mermaids and even Dementors existed.

Dementors existed. That was a bit of a let down.

But it couldn't have been worse, could it?

Gwen's heart stopped cold.

What if horror movies existed?

'Don't think about that, do NOT think about that,' she thought, her hands shaking.

But what if they DID?

'They don't,'

But the X-Files did.

'That doesn't mean anything,'

Her heightened, flying emotions of happiness crashed in less than ten seconds. She was overwhelmed with fear again. Gripping, bone shattering fear. She tried to look around at the aliens on the sidewalk and enjoy the fact that they were there.

But what if Jason Vorhees was lurking around?

Freddy Krueger?

Hannibal Lec-

'NO!' she screamed interntally, clutching her head. 'No, no, no, no, no, no.'

Once that thought had begun to enter her mind, the fun had worn off. She wanted to go home again. Forget Starfleet! Forget the Jedi Order! If there were any horror movie characters at ALL, she was out of here!

She was going home, never to watch a horror film ever, never to even THINK about watching one! She leaving, she was done, she was a hundred times DONE with this place!

It was such a hard crash into anxiety- the hardest crash she had ever experienced. The mere IDEA of being on the same planet as a character like Hannibal Lecter was unbearable and the thought instantly overwhelmed her mind.

She began sob loudly, racing down the sidewalk, jumping at everyone she saw just in case one of them was Michael Myers. Screw this, screw this, screw this whole universe! She took off down the sidewalk, screaming for help, crying, ignoring the stares, hoping someone would stop her, anyone- someone- please-

She turned another corner, her feet hard against the sidewalk, cursing like a pirate. She tried calling her mom again and again. Then her dad. Then even her best friend. No one. No signal. Not even a voice recording. She swung around one more corner and screamed out loud, backing away.

The building was enormous. It looked like the Senate from 'Star Wars' with its gigantic, glass domed roof. It towered above all other buildings, surrounded in the sky by hundreds of spaceships that looked like buzzing flies. Old X-Wings, runabouts, Birds of Prey.

There were thousands of glass windows lining the round cement, blue walls. Enormous posters of Starfleet and the Federation, Avengers, Justice League, S.H.I.E.L.D, Middle-Earth, Aslan's army, and the X-Men symbols all flagged across the walls. Beneath the gargantuan building were parking lots, terminals, and gates of all kind. To Gwen, it looked like a ginormous sci-fi airport.

All thoughts of horror movies and their terrifying visuals leaped from her mind jut like that, slowly raising her from the icy panic attack.

"Wow," she panted. She took three pictures of it.

"Okay, 'Infinity War'. You are no longer the most ambitious crossover the world has ever seen."

She ran down the sidewalk and the crowds immediately became thicker and more diverse. She saw less and less humans. Not that she was complaining. She was pushed between the shoulders of Twi'Leks, Avatars, Elves, and almost stepped on actual cartoon chipmunks (that took her totally off guard and made her think she was on drugs for about three seconds).

Gwen was ushered onto a crosswalk by the crowd and back to the left side of the street. Her jaw slowly dropped as the great airport filled her entire view and she was unable to see its top unless she risked toppling backward. She and the thick crowd walked down the road to the base of the building where there were doors after doors, allowing humans and colourful aliens inside.

Soon, she was right in the shadow of the gigantic building, moving along the cement of the doors. She tried to look behind her but before she knew it, she was pushed by three Klingons into a set of wide glass doors, off of the sidewalk and into the building.

She stumbled backwards and fell hard on her backside.

"Hey!" she screamed, looking up and around for the Klingons. "I didn't challenge your honour or anything!"

Her attention was taken off of the crowd moving around her, when she looked up. Her jaw flopped open again and she scrambled to her feet, rubbing her backside.

She was in a cavernous airport lobby with escalators stretching high above her head into a tower like a Muggle version of the moving staircases at Hogwarts. She looked ahead and saw balconies upon balconies all stretched along the towering walls, weaving over and under shops and vendors. There was a giant electrical sign hanging down from the nearest balcony and had about forty different locations, all with different forms of transportations, all swapping into different languages. There were planes to Middle-Earth, cruises to Dinotopia, trains to Oz, spaceships to Coruscant.

Wiping her face of tears, Gwen was beaming once more as she walked towards the sign, staring around at the hundreds of balconies and shops that lined the walls, stretching over floor after floor. She watched the sign swap from location after location, in Elvish to Huttese, before she bounded across the silver blue floor underneath it.

The crowds had lessened now, and Gwen was once again surrounded with the people and locations from her dreams. Klingon takeouts, hobbit-made furniture, brochures to every fictional place Gwen could imagine.

Except for Hogwarts. Not seeing the magical castle or any sign of it gave her a little bit of anxiety. What was the point of an epic crossover universe should the secret Wizarding World not even exist? But it was secret, after all. Nontheless, she searched the crowds for anyone in a tall-pointed hats or long robes but the only robed beings she saw were Bajoran Vedeks in their purple gowns and hooded heads.

Gwen took in the crossover airport more deeply than she had of the familiar New York City. She walked through the airport's middle, smiling and waving.

Everyone seemed too happy, too normal. Jason Vorhees couldn't be running around. Zombies couldn't be real. Hannibal Lecter wasn't a threat. Not in such a happy environment like this.

She made it to another large lobby where three escalators led through an open doorway. She managed to squeeze herself into the bustling crowd and rode up the far right escalator with a group of Vulcans.

The escalator led up to another cramped floor with long windows along the right wall, doorways along the left wall, one doorway leading on ahead.

Gwen quickly jumped off the escalator and dashed to the right window. The view was brilliant. The long windows showed the tall forest of the New York City buildings, touching the skies at different heights and shapes of rectangle, the skies dotted with spaceships and flying cars.

She pulled out her panorama camera on her phone and took an entire picture of the entire stretching view, breathing heavily with disbelief. She found it was nearly impossible to comprehend that the first public transit bus she had ever ridden by herself had brought her to a world she knew everything about. Nearly everything, at least.

"Hey, Mom," she whispered to herself, moving so close to the glass that her nose nearly pressed against it. "I had a great day today. Got a 92 on my English test and took the last gumball in the machine. Oh yeah, and I rode a bus into another dimension where fandoms and fiction are real. Totally normal. Absolutely normal."

She looked behind her and found herself captivated by the diverse crowds of humans and aliens piling trough the doors on the left wall. However, one being did not enter the doors with the crowd. One being continued on into the hallway directly ahead of the escalators.

This being was taller than the others, dressed all in black with a head of greasy black hair. Gwen frowned and turned a bit to try and get a better look. This was the exact same head that she had seen striding away from the newspaper stand, and that weird feeling of familiarity overtook her again.

Looking at it, she had no idea who the head belonged to, nor where she had seen the figure before. But she couldn't stop staring as the figure moved into the hallway ahead. She pocketed her phone and followed the smaller crowd on tiptoes through the next door.

The hallway that was directly in front of the escalator led to a tall and more narrow hall that was lined with blue windows. Halfway down the hall, the windows became grey concrete. This was where a row of six ATM machines, all of which were abandoned, sat against the left wall. Either than the machines, the hallway was barren empty.

Gwen poked her head around the corner of the door to stare down the hallway, watching the figure and his long black cloak trailing behind him as he strode down the hall.

She felt the ground underneath her begin to sway as she suddenly recognized the him. Her heart pounded violently against her chest and her palms had gone so sweaty, she had to wipe them onto her pants.

She stopped staring into the hallway, spun around and pressed herself against the wall, hand clapped over her mouth in shock. The crowds riding up the escalators towards her stared curiously before splitting off into the other doors.

Gwen placed a hand over her heart and could feel it through her ribcage. She had a million thoughts going through her head, fast and feverish. Carefully, shaking like a leaf, she poked her head around the corner. It couldn't really be him, could it? How in the world could it be?

The man was standing at an ATM machine, prodding at it with a long finger. Her knees felt weak. It was him. It really was him.

Professor Severus Snape.

Gwen could actually hear her heart in her ears and she felt sick to her stomach. The anxiety in her heart suddenly bursted into a balloon of gleeful joy. She stuck her fist into her mouth and began to bounce on her toes, desperately trying not to scream.

It wasn't everyday that your absolute favourite fictional character of all time was barely a few meters away from you.

'I've got to talk to him,' she thought in a hissing conscience voice. 'Just a word or two. Just one or two words. Just say hi or something. Just a 'hi'. Don't waste his time.'

Slowly but surely, Gwen began to creep down the hallway to where he stood.

That was him, alright. Sallow pale skin, hooked nose, greasy black hair, gaunt, bagged eyes. It was really him.

Gwen's arms were stiff by her sides as she continued to creep up on Professor Severus Snape, who was now muttering things under his breath. There was something hot behind her face and she could tell that she was blushing harder than she had ever blushed before.

Nothing else in this new dimension seemed to matter now. Who cared if horror movie characters were out there? What did it matter if she didn't get home straight away?

'He looks just like Alan Rickman,' Gwen breathed in her head, covering her mouth. 'The mouth, the eyes, the nose. Oh my gosh.'

The real Snape pounded an ATM machine with an angry fist and cursed under his breath. Gwen stopped dead in her tracks.

'Why are you hitting that ATM machine?' she thought. 'Why are you even at an ATM machine? Wizards don't use ATM machines.'

Of course! He was a wizard! A real, actually real, really there wizard! But it was boggling Gwen's mind as to why he was even near an ATM machine.

In the 'Harry Potter' stories, Professor Snape was young wizard-in-training Harry's arch-enemy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was the Potions Master who detested Harry (as well as everyone else except the students in his own Hogwarts House of Slytherin) and made a point of making Harry's life as miserable as possible. The only problem was, there were about a hundred different layers to Snape's personality and the life he had led was even more complicated.

The debate of whether or not Snape was really a hero to the world of wizards sometimes became as brutal and nasty as the character himself. However, Gwen was on the side of JK Rowling, the author of the books: Snape was all grey, neither good nor bad. The other problem was, many people refused to heed the words of the author so this debate was not going to end no matter what.

Gwen had fallen in love with Snape when she realized his complexity and absolutely human nature. She was devastated when he was killed in the final book, despite knowing it would happen since Year 3, and even more devastated when the actor himself died.

'But he's right there,' she whispered in her mind, barely four feet from him. 'He's actually there and he's alive. Snape is alive.'

But how? How could he possible be alive? Why was he here and not at Hogwarts? How did he survive? He had bled to death directly in front of Harry. And here he stood. Now only a few feet away from her.

Snape was now pounding the ATM machine over and over again, grunting through his clenched, yellowish teeth. The machine in the wall shuddered and Gwen was prepared for it to come right out and onto the floor. She stopped walking, standing directly next to him, watching him from the side.

'He looks just like Alan Rickman. Just like him. He moves like him too,'

Yet, it wasn't Alan Rickman. Like Superman, he looked just like his actor but was clearly a different person. A completely different person who looked stunningly similar to another.

She opened her mouth and prepared to say everything she had planned. A simple 'hello', an introduction. But she shut her mouth again from cold fear.

'Don't look at him directly in the eye,'

She gulped and opened her mouth again to speak. No sound came out.

'Do it now, do it now, come on stupid, come on!'

She opened her mouth one more time and inhaled, her mouth forming the word 'hi'.

That was not what came out.

What came out was so slurred and so quick, she was shocked it sounded like words at all.

"I know you're not really good with this kind of stuff but that doesn't really help,"

Snape stopped beating the ATM screen.

Gwen took a step back, horrified. She clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.

Did she really just say that? To him?

Slowly, Snape turned with a face of what Gwen immediately recognized as confusion: nose wrinkled, eyebrows furrowed.

Gwen looked at her feet after one quick glance into Snape's eyes. They were like cold, black tunnels. Exactly like his novel description.

Her face was burning with embarassment.

After what seemed like hours, he spoke.

"And what would make you assume I found these sorts of things difficult?"

Her spine jittered. She was hearing Alan Rickman's voice right in front of her. In person. Somehow, she was hearing it. Beyond the grave. It was so much smoother in real life. But it was also quiet. Not a calming quiet, the kind of harsh quiet that sliced your self-esteem like a knife.

"W-well," Her voice was struggling to stay still. She didn't look at him, scared he might see her tomato-coloured face. "For- for starters, um, well, you're- um- you're, um, pounding the- the ATM machine so- so that's- that's a sign."

She returned her gaze upwards, cautiously. Professor Snape had an eyebrow cocked. Gwen's shoulders were hunched, her whole body stiff.

Snape then turned back to the ATM machine, forcefully pressing the touchscreen buttons to get to the PIN code again. It was obvious that he was struggling.

Gwen watched as he went to different email screens, maps, and help screens.

He was shaking slightly and it was clear that his temper was about to flare again.

"Do you want any help?" she blurted out.

Snape froze again, his right index finger hovering over the screen. Gwen's eyes went wide and they made eye contact again.

Crap! She looked away rapidly.

"Help?" Snape's voice was trembling like hers but it wasn't from fear. Gwen recognized it as agitation.

"Y-Yeah,"

She finally forced herself to look up at him. He towered over her and his face was so very similar to Alan Rickman's, she found it difficult to look at him. But something kept her looking at him.

As he scowled at her, his eyes- black and bottomless- had something glinting deep within their icy depths...something not quite sane. Something distant, something tormented. To make things even worse, his eyes were heavily bagged with near-black lilac circles like he hadn't slept in days. His hair, already greasy enough, was tangled and messy in places. His eyes penetrated her and Gwen looked down at her feet, hoping- praying- he wasn't looking into her mind like he did with all of his students.

To Gwen, he looked slightly mad. She crossed her arms.

"Fine," he muttered.

She looked back up. Snape glanced over both of his shoulders quickly and grumbled again- "If it will get you off my back,"

He handed Gwen a small red card and she took it with trembling fingers. Snape stepped to the side and gestured to the ATM machine. She stared at him and he jerked his head towards the machine.

"Hurry up," he snapped.

Gwen nodded and stepped up to the machine, returning to the main menu. She had a bank card of her own but it was at home. She had taken out tithe money for church once, so she knew what she was doing.

Surprisingly, an alternate universe ATM was just like a normal one. She gently pressed the touchscreen buttons while Professor Snape leaned over her left shoulder, breathing down her neck from his large nose.

'He's literally breathing on you,' a voice in Gwen's head squealed. 'Ask him what his favourite colour is! Go on! You know you want-'

'Okay, you need to shut up,' Her conscience overtook the fangirl part of her brain.

'But don't you wanna know why he has a credit card? Why does Severus Snape, the wizard ashamed of being half-Muggle, have something Muggle?'

'I'll ask later. Shut up,'

"See? You don't need to press the buttons that hard," she said aloud to Snape, her voice still shaky. "So you go into this menu, then you punch in a password."

Snape reached around to the touchscreen and pressed a password. It accepted him into the next screen.

Her mind had created a good question. Why _did_ Snape have a bank card? Why was he at an ATM machine? What was he doing so far from Hogwarts? And how was he alive in the first place?

"So- um- so then you can, uh, type in how much you want taken out," Gwen explained.

Silently, Snape pressed in $30. Gwen blinked. Did Snape know how to handle Muggle money?

"Then- the- the, um, PIN goes-"

Without finishing her sentence, Professor Snape had already typed in the PIN code from looking over Gwen's shoulder at the card. He then hit ACCEPT, glancing up quickly. Gwen saw his body twitch as if something had startled him. His eyes were a tad too big and Gwen looked over her own shoulder.

An African-American man in a black turtle neck was racing down the hall, accompanied by a Starfleet officer in a black jumpsuit with a red security turtleneck across his shoulders. The officer had the spots of a Trill down the sides of his head.

"Hey, who is- OW!"

Snape had suddenly elbowed Gwen out of the way, snatching the card from her and the money that slid from the machine.

Then, he spun on his heel and took off down the hall, his black cloak billowing behind him. Gwen rubbed her shoulder and watched as her favourite character was gone just as fast she had seen him.

"Hey! Hey, kid!"

She turned. The Starfleet officer and the man skidded right up to meet her, both panting.

"Do you know that man?" the Trill said, pointing down the hall to where Snape had been fleeing so suddenly. Gwen stared from the Trill to the man, back and forth about three times.

When she had collected herself, convinced herself not to panic as she spoke to an actual Trill, she said-

"Well- I know who he is, yeah- I mean, you don't?"

"Of course not!" the man snapped, hands on his hips. He looked incredibly impatient and angry almost. "That's why we're asking you!"

So the Wizarding World _was_ secret here.

In this other universe. Where everything existed.

Gwen shook her head, shoving her hands into her pockets to stop them from visibly shaking.

"Why- Why do you want to know? I mean, what did he do?"

"What did he do?!" the man shouted. "He stole my freaking credit card!"

"Easy, Bill. Come now," the Trill said calmly.

He exhaled and turned to Gwen, taking out a writing PADD. Gwen bit her lip, trying not to squeal at the sight of the iconic technology. Suddenly, her mind settled on what the man Martin had said. Her mouth opened.

"Wait- stole your credit card? He stole your credit card? But Snape wouldn't- He doesn't have the need for one! I mean- What?" she gasped out.

"What did you say his name was?" the Trill asked.

"He stole your credit card?" Gwen cried, pointing at Bill. "How the heck did he know the codes and- Oohhhh."

How could she have been so stupid? All those precautions she had made not to look him in the eye and she had forgotten Snape was a Legilimens, a kind of wizard who could interpret your memories and read your very thoughts.

"Snape? Is that what you said his name was? Now, is that a last name or a first name?" the Trill continued, typing into his PADD.

"Huh. You know his name and not him personally, eh?" Bill sneered.

"Look, I know all about him and stuff but- He doesn't- he doesn't know who I am!" Gwen pleaded.

"How does that make any sense?" Bill snapped. "What? You think you're a Watcher or something?"

"I am not a Watcher," Gwen said quickly, holding up her hands.

'But I'm pretty darn close,' she thought honestly to herself.

"Then how do you know all about him?" the Trill added. "And if you do know all about him, I suggest you tell me what you know, or you're looking at a potential security problem, miss."

The man Bill nodded with an expression that made Gwen hear Sharona Flemming's voice from 'Monk' in the pilot episode:

_Oh, what is that? Your tough face?_

Gwen inhaled and exhaled, her heart beginning to pound. She eyed the real, gold Starfleet boomerang shaped badge on the Trill's chest. He was Starfleet. He was one of the good guys. She could trust him.

"Listen, you're not gonna believe this," she whispered.

The Trill officer and Bill leaned in a bit as she beckoned them. She took a deep breath in, well aware of how absolutely insane she was about to sound. But there was an alien man before her with a worm in his stomach so an insane situation called for insane explanations.

"My name is Gwendolyn MacMillan. I'm from Nova Scotia, Canada, and I'm sixteen. I got on a transit bus for the first time, but I think I took the wrong bus or something because I started in Halifax and now I'm in New York. Listen, this'll sound insane but you've gotta listen, because I come from a universe where everything in this universe is fiction. I swear, I'm not making this up. Starfleet, the Avengers, Middle-Earth, all the fantastic and super awesome stuff is totally not real in my world. Because my universe basically invented this universe and I know who Snape is because he's a fictional character in my world, and his actor is dead. So I also know that you're a Starfleet security officer from Trill with a symbiote in your stomach that holds past lives, and that only one Trill in hundreds gets picked to host a symbiote and it's a hard test and- Look, I'm telling the truth, okay? I can hardly believe I'm here because the man who stole your credit card is my favourite character ever and his actor is dead and he's supposed to be dead so- Yeah."

The officer and Bill stared at her with mouths the sizes of small moons. Gwen was breathing hard but she smiled because getting all of that out was an enormous weight off of her shoulders. She didn't care if that sounded weird to them.

It was worth getting it out.

The officer straightened up and with a shaking hand, pressed his badge.

"Um, this is Bal to security,"

A voice buzzed from the badge back to him. "Security,"

"We have a- a- a lost teenager down here,"

"Yes, thank you," Gwen sighed, smiling.

"Thank you,"

"I'm going to need to beam her to a cell,"

"Woah!" Gwen yelled, taking a step back.

"Hey, wait a second! How is that fair?! I'm telling the truth!"

"I'm sorry, but it is far too dangerous for people to see you," the officer said. "I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me. We can't have you talking to people."

"I thought you were one of the good guys!" Gwen said, backing away down the hall. "I'm telling the truth! I know, I know it sounds crazy but- but it's true! I can tell you what you need to know about Snape but- seriously!"

"No, you have to come with me. Now," the officer said, putting his PADD away.

Gwen felt tears of fear creep into her eyes and she shook her head as the officer advanced.

"I don't want to have to use force," the officer said.

Bill looked stunned and was backing away as well. But his eyes were fixated on Gwen. She felt as though her knees would cave. She went to make a break for it and didn't make it. She screamed as the Trill's hand clasped out her right wrist and started pull her down the hall. Bill ran for it past them, obviously to find Snape himself.

"LET GO, YOU DUMB TRILL! LET GO!"

She let loose every almost curse word she knew, and screamed and kicked. But the Trill had an iron grip and had pressed his badge, trying to yell at security for a beam over Gwen's horrific obscenities.

Then, she remembered she took karate for a few weeks. And the next moment went by in a heartbeat. Gwen did the first escape method she could remember, and the one that scared her the most. In one quick movement, she opened her hand and moved it up so that the side lay over the Trill's wrist, she used her other hand to hold the Trill's fingers down. She pressed down her captured hand on the wrist.

The Trill let out an ear-piercing shriek and jumped back, cradling his near-broken wrist and Gwen screamed murder, taking off down the hall.

She ran faster than she had ever run before, pounding off down the hall, turning the sharp corner to the left. Sobbing, shouting, she bolted by open stores and vendors, ignoring the stares of the now crowded halls.

A Starfleet officer attacked her. Attacked her! This wasn't 'Star Trek: Discovery'! Why had he attacked her?! She sounded insane but not dangerous! Why wasn't she safe?!

Gwen continued to bolt down the hallways of the airport that had transformed into an enormous mall in the middle. She was searching left and right, looking for somewhere- anywhere- to hide.

She turned any corner when she saw more members of Starfleet and rode down escalators, crouched at the bottom to hide. Horror movies were the least of her problems; she was running from the heroes of one of her favourite television shows!

Gwen had gone up and down four different floors, raced down six hallways, and hidden on three escalators before she finally came to a stop. But she hadn't stopped from being exhausted, as fear kept her going on nonstop.

She had stopped because there were no Starfleet officers in sight.

She had stopped because of a particular shop on her left. Panting, hands on her knees, she turned and looked up at the shop.

Inside the shop were booths complete with conveyer belts that moved and a door with blurred glass windows. There were blurred people in all of the glass booths wearing black gloves and VR visors over their eyes, walking and running on the conveyer belts.

There was a glowing purple and blue sign over the shop that read: FROM THE FUTURE THROUGH THE TIME-PORTAL: LIVE THE OASIS BEFORE IT COMES TO YOU.

The OASIS. The iconic VR universe that was basically this new universe in her universe. How in the world could there be references to a universe that was already all real? How was OASIS already here?

More importantly, how could the OASIS reference a universe that already existed?

For some reason, Gwen didn't feel the need to have to answer these questions. The OASIS was right before her.

She could play it just like in her dreams.

Gwen ran into the shop. The floor was a pearly glowing white, and one cubicle was left available near the back on the left. 'Jump' by Van Halen was playing across the white roof. Apparently, music was still the same here.

Glancing around quickly, legs shaking, Gwen stepped up into the cubicle onto the conveyer belt. She closed the door in on herself and it clicked. A whirring was sent through the white cubicle and she jumped.

"Okay, relax, relax," she whispered.

The OASIS was invented, or soon to be invented (Gwen wasn't sure), by autistic but nerdy and brilliant James Halliday and his Simon Pegg friend Ogden Morrow. It was supposed to be the ultimate geek video game. Still. There wasn't any need for the OASIS if everything inside of it was already real. Maybe the OASIS was invented because some people wanted to be Trill but couldn't or be a Jedi but weren't able.

With trembling hands, Gwen pulled on the black haptic gloves that were lying by her feet and handled the black VR visor (wireless unlike the ones back home) that had been resting on a shelf in the white wall before her. Then, she strapped herself into the harness hanging from the ceiling. She pulled off her backpack and hanging it on a hook on the wall.

She exhaled, peering out through the cubicle window next to her to make sure no Starfleet officers were coming near, and seeing if maybe Snape would appear again. She had been on such a high meeting him, her heart actually ached now that he was gone. He was a jerk, yes, but for some reason, seeing Alan Rickman's face before her- knowing that Snape was alive- she was desperate to see him again.

"One thing at a time," she said, shaking herself. "Beautiful video game you're desperate to play first."

She pulled the visor over her eyes.

Immediately, she was met with a black screen with two white boxes. The right box read READY PLAYER ONE, the opening words to enter the OASIS. The left box read WELCOME TO CHARACTIA: A VIRTUAL HISTORY. Gwen had never heard of the left box. It was never mentioned in Ernest Cline's engaging book or Steven Spielberg's epic movie.

She moved her left hand up and giggled as she saw a pale hand like hers in the game reach up and click the left box. The screen transformed into a large tunnel of bright rainbow colours, just like the Bifrost in 'Thor'. She felt her body being dragged forward as if she were actually speeding through the tunnel.

The tunnel disappeared and she was floating through outer space, past planets. The harness lifted her up off of the ground and she felt as though she really was floating.

"Okay, wow, cool, yes," she gasped out.

A voice began to speak into her ears. It sounded familiar but she couldn't figure out who's it was. It was rich and definitely an Irish accent. It hit her about halfway through the first sentence that she was listening to actor Liam Neeson's voice. Or, a character played by Liam Neeson.

"The universe we live in, Charactia, is vast and has expanded far beyond our imaginations. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of planets in our galaxy and small universes within our own. It is an impossible mission to explore every reach of Charactia, as it is expanding every day and continues to expand far into the future where we cannot reach,"

Gwen jumped, still hovering, as there was a dark roar. She looked to her left and suddenly, Captain Kirk's famous Enterprise was sailing through space next to her. She was tiny compared to it. A mere speck of dust in the vast virtual space.

"Future-dwellers, such as Starfleet and the Federation, have come to our present-day Charactia by expanding their ways through a time-portal. As have many others have done in the past such as the existence of the Empire and the First Order," Liam Neeson's voice continued. "You see, in Charactia, we have hundreds of different species and people who have created important events in our lives. These people have helped shape Charactia."

The Bifrost tunnel returned and Gwen was speeding towards it once again. Her harness lowered her onto the conveyer belt and she was suddenly on a dark street like one in Tokyo, walking along it comfortably without hitting the wall in front of her.

Gwen stared in awe at the vibrant screens around her hanging from the buildings. These screens showed clips from iconic films, shows, and famous characters occurring in them. She saw the Brachiosaurus in the first 'Jurassic Park' movie, John McClane jumping from the Nakatomi Plaza, Ellen Ripley fighting the Xenomorph Queen, Forrest Gump rescuing his fellow soldiers in Vietnam.

"The Earth of our Charactia universe has gone through, and will go through difficult times. From multiple alien invasions, to armies of highly intelligent apes, and the meetings of sentient AIs. But our earth has been shaped by help of these important people. For there is a legend that, because our future is currently corresponding with our present and past, always expanding, there is another world where our fact is different from theirs. Although unconfirmed, these other people are called All-Knowers, who share the same world we have but very different in people. All-Knowers have knowledge of the history and people of Charactia, despite never having come here. But this is merely a legend. People such as Forrest Gump, who invented many of the world's phrases, and John Hammond, who recreated our dinosaurs despite the secret existence of Dinotopia, helped us climb to existence. We call these people Characters. Because of Rose's family, we have accurate tellings of life on the Titanic. And because of Dom Cobb and Doctor Strange, we have the ability to leap in others dreams and other universes. I myself, Bryan Mills, have been considered an asset to this world. Though, personally, I doubt it."

Gwen sniggered when she saw one of the buildings screens showing the speaking character in the movie 'Taken', saying those iconic words and becoming a meme for the ages:

_I will look for you. I will find you. And I will kill you. _

"However," he continued, "some of these expansions have been revoked."

The Bifrost returned and Gwen found herself running across the conveyer belt at a high speed until it stopped. Her heart did the same as the Bifrost, stopping cold.

"No," she breathed.

She was standing in a long hotel hallway, black and white. There was an open door at the end of the hall. It was a bathroom and she could see a wide open shower. A shower all too familiar to her.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," Gwen cried, trying to yank the visor off desperately, but Mills kept speaking.

"After the year 1960, Norman Bates created more damage than any Character known to man,"

Gwen paused as suddenly, a fizzling hologram of Norman Bates appeared before her. She had never seen "Psycho" but she recognized him in an instant. Young, stunningly handsome, black-parted hair and dark eyes. A wide, evil smirk across his face. That smile she knew he had at the end of the movie. It caused the hair on Gwen's neck to stand up. She knew it. She knew horror was real.

"Because of the amount of dangers he provoked, the lion Aslan, a close friend of mine, created a secret and unexplainable law that all futures resembling the incidents at Bates Motel were to be banned, revoked, inexistent. This was called The Revocation,"

"Oh," Gwen sighed of relief as Norman Bates' hologram flickered before her. She laughed victoriously and held up a haptic glove that raised the middle finger.

"These horror genres are completely unknown to us, as we do not know what could have existed later. But, under the heavy watch of Aslan, none since Norman Bates have existed, and none ever will," Mills said.

"Hey, wait," Gwen said, half calling out to Mills' disembodied voice. "What about 'Alien'? I just saw a video of Ellen Ripley!"

But the hologram blinked out and the Bates Motel hallway vanished. Gwen was left standing in a completely dark room that suddenly was overflowing with hundreds of tiny hologram planets, all labelled when she moved her hand over them. Tatooine, Bajor, Magrathea, Discworld.

"This is the ever-expanding and unknown world of Charactia. But it is where we live and where we will always live. I hope you, viewer, will continue to live here in a peace and mind of curiosity. There is much to explore and much to discover. In Charactia, we have barley scratched the surface of our universe,"

The video ended but Gwen didn't leave the cubicle. She sat on the conveyer belt, haptic gloves still on, the visor in her lap, thinking. The history lesson wasn't exactly a history lesson. The people in this universe barely knew anything about their own world! Gwen still knew nothing.

So Charactia was just like Earth. If Earth had been through just about everything it had been through in the movies. In this world, no one knew they were based on fiction. In this world, InGen had really affected the world's computers but not in Gwen's world. The Earth somehow became apocalyptic and peaceful at the same time, because of the Hunger Games and Starfleet. Unless the Hunger Games was a rough patch. But still. Wouldn't Starfleet stop the Hunger Games? There were so many apocalypse films. They couldn't have all happened.

And sure, okay, horror movies were unknown in this world. Except for Norman Bates. He was legit. Hopefully dead, but legit. So what about 'Alien'? What about Edgar Allen Poe's works? Did they count? Because that wasn't much better. Maybe Aslan, since he was real, monitored those events before 'Psycho', since 'Psycho' would have an epic impact on the horror industry to come.

What about all of those characters played by the same actors? Were there seriously just hundreds of different versions of people walking around? Levinson and Ian Malcolm existed at the same time? Where was Westworld? Was that in a secret location in the future? What about Westoros? Was there still a hard-core bloodbath going on there? Or was that in the past?

Gwen was so confused now, and it seemed as though the people here in the universe of Charactia were just as confused.

Maybe Charactia had been made after Jesus' birth. There was that factor too. There weren't two Gods, so maybe Charactia formed when the first films and stories were being made. Where did Shakespeare come into play? Did only 'Romeo and Juliet' and the pure fiction stories come true? Did filmmaking exist here too? How did that work? How did Characters reference other stories, like when John McClane said to Hans that he liked Roy Rogers. Roy Rogers didn't exist here, did he?

"Brain hurts, brain hurts," Gwen moaned, rubbing her forehead.

She needed to focus on one thing only. Horror wasn't real. But where was Norman Bates? Dead? Banished? Where had he gone? Well, he wasn't here anymore. That was for sure. Still, the idea that Dracula had been real, could well still be, was surprisingly alarming. Even though Gwen was a fan of the classic black-and-white monsters.

Norman Bates had been a real person. Now she needed to watch the movie.

Uncrossing her legs, rising to her feet, Gwen set the OASIS headset back in its shelf and opened the door to her cubicle a crack. She could hear loud voices outside of her booth and she peered through the crack, down the hall of cubicles, out of the shop and to the mall floor. There were five Starfleet officers, one of them a blue Andorian, all chatting quickly, phasers out and hopefully set for stun.

"-nearly broke his wrist,"

"Claims she's an All-Knower. That's what Bal said, anyway. Look, no one just runs around claiming to be an All-Knower. I mean, that's like claiming to be some sort of god,"

"All-Knowers are just glorified

Watchers, alright?"

"Beliefs aside. We've got to find that girl and her accomplice Snake,"

"The report said his name was Snape,"

"Whatever! We have to find them! Phasers for stun. She's just a kid,"

"What about the Snape man? You saw what he did to Chief Caldwell! They still can't get his legs unstuck!"

Gwen shut the door quickly, shaking her hands as if drying them from sink-water. If they came in here, she was screwed. She was so screwed. Putting on the headset wouldn't matter, they'd just take it off. Maybe if she went with them, she'd find Snape. No. There was no way Snape would come quietly. She was not going with them. They'd never believe that she was an... An All-Knower.

She was an All-Knower then. That must've been why the Trill officer didn't want her speaking to anyone... It would be weird if someone walked up to her and told her everything about herself, claiming that they were her biggest fan. She'd probably give off 'Misery' vibes.

There was a pounding on Gwen's cubicle door and she jumped four feet in the air. Spinning to the right, expecting to see the Starfleet officers, she actually saw that the person in the cubicle across from her had been knocking to get her attention.

It was a boy about eighteen in a 'Star Wars'-like jacket and flight goggles hanging around his neck. He looked a bit like a young Cassian from 'Rogue One'. He had his cubicle door cracked open and bit and waved. Gwen cracked hers open a bit too. He started hissing at her.

"Hey. Are you hidin' from them?"

"Yeah," Gwen hissed back. She felt her heart leap when she saw the Starfleet officers begin to check the cubicles.

"One floor up is the food court. Down the hall behind you, to the right, up the left escalator. Hide in there. No one ever gets found in there," the boy said.

"Down the hall, to the right, left escalator. Got it. But- um- how do I-" Gwen created a subtle gesture to the officers slowly making their way towards her.

"Jump out and make a sharp left. There's an opening between your cubicle and another," the boy said with a smirk. He winked and shut the cubicle door.

Gwen looked to the left and saw the Starfleet officers just three doors down, speaking carefully to the Twi'Lek female inside. Her pulse jumped and she reached down, pulling off her haptic gloves, struggling with the harness belt around her shoulders and waist.

Hands shaking, bouncing up and down, she pulled at the belt around her waist but it wouldn't come undone. She could hear the door of the Twi'Lek girl closing and another closer door opening. Gwen forced the tears to stay in her eyes as she jumped up in down in a fit of anxiety.

She prayed fast and the belt buckle came undone. She stepped out of the harness, pulling her arms out through the straps. It bounced back to the ceiling.

The door right next to her opened and she heard the Starfleet officers speaking. Gwen tossed her backpack on and stared at the door out of her cubicle. She stamped her feet against the ground and had a flashback to Grade 9 capture the flag where she'd have to break into a five second dash that may or may not get her out. And she usually got out.

She'd have to do it. She'd have to do it now. So why wasn't she? Do it now. Do it now. She had do to it-

Wait. Wait a second.

Quickly, hearing the door next to her close, she pulled her rain jacket hood over her hair and her face. She made sure her entire face was covered my pulling her head out of its ponytail so it fell thick around her cheeks. Nose pointed down, eyes pointed upwards, Gwen reached out to push the door open.

The doorknob twisted.

Gwen's heart stopped cold and her entire body froze. She could see the silhouettes of the black and yellow Starfleet uniforms through the layered window. She backed directly against the wall, her heart slowly creeping into her chest...creating a ball she desperately tried to swallow. The door to her cubicle turned glacially to the right...she sunk to the ground...the door creaked as it opened and-

BANG.

The door slammed after the echoing noise bounced all around her. Gwen clenched into a smaller ball and stared around wildly.

BANG.

The noise was near deafening. She had never heard the noise in reality before. But the way it echoed, the way it took off like a shot, rippling around the walls, followed by an enormous roar of screams from above her.

She had never heard a sound like that but she knew exactly what it was.

The Starfleet officers pounded away, shouting to each other. Gwen jumped to her feet and scrambled to the door, launching it open and jumping out of the cubicle.

She was not the only one who had done it. All of the other cubicles were wide open, their human and non-human inhabitants staring around outside of the shop, where there was a thunderous crowd of fandom-littered beings pounding down the hallway, shrieking and crying out.

"What the hell?" Gwen breathed as she moved towards the hallway. Everyone was running from the hallway to the far right. "Wait- what is this-"

She spun round. All of the other gamers had retreated to their cubicles to hide.

Gwen turned back. Starfleet officers, element-benders, Elves, and protectors of every kind were shouting orders to one another, pushing through the madly panicked crowd. Gwen raced headlong into the hallway.

She learned very soon that it was a mistake. A mistake that suddenly thrust her from being to being, pushing her back down the hallway that everyone so desperately retreated from.

It was a mistake that sent her colliding into a crowd of Klingons that knocked her down, forcing her to crawl out of the crowd, suddenly screaming for some form to help her.

It was a mistake that would change her life forever.

She felt sharp pains as her hands were stepped on about three times, air escaping her lungs from fear that took control of her body. Another deafening BANG roared through the Charactia mall. Hundreds of bizarre feet blurred past her face as she yelled to those above her.

Gwen jumped to her feet, knocking backwards a red and yellow aquatic female with a long head. With an excited yet still mortally terrified start, she recognized it as a Zora from 'The Legend of Zelda'.

The Zora was the only person in the crowd who ceased to run. Gwen reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back into standing position.

"Sorry- Geez- I am so sorry-"

"It's fine!" the Zora shouted, glancing around wildly.

Gwen had to collect her heart from racing out of the completely random fact that she was standing in a mall talking to a real, live Zora who, in fact, was far more beautiful in real life.

"Hey, what's going on?" Gwen asked loudly.

"They have returned!" the Zora cried, her webbed hands gripping Gwen's shoulders, staring down her pointed noise at her. Her big blue eyes were urgent. "They have all returned! They are beginning the doomsday!"

"Who's back? What's going on? Who's shooting?" Gwen yelled.

"The monsters! They have been terrorizing Charactia's Earth! They will not rest until fear takes the world by an iron fist!"

"Wh-What? Wait a second- what species are they? Like, what universe-"

But the Zora was pushed aside by a screaming group of tiny people in brown cloaks and glowing yellow eyes. Gwen was alone again.

This time, she was upright and she knew exactly how to push through. By repeating the word 'sorry' half a dozen times, she pushed on through the crowd, her ears ringing from the gunshots from above and the screams.

Monsters? What kind of monsters? Death Eaters? Sith Lords? Orcs? In this universe of universes, what sorts of beings wanted the apocalypse?

As Gwen squeezed between a scaly green Silurian from 'Doctor Who' and a man in an Earth Kingdom uniform, she had a momentary idea that it could be Thanos' stupid Night Order. Or maybe the Suicide Squad?

The fear remained but as Gwen finally reached the end of the crowd, in a tall hollow tower filled with more escalators, it was replaced by jumpiness. If it was the Suicide Squad, she HAD to see. She got out her phone from her pocket.

Gwen climbed on an escalator where people were leaping down it and shrieking. As she rode up it, about halfway through, her images of catching a picture of Harley Quinn or Captain Boomerang were shattered. She suddenly realized what she was doing.

She was in a mall shooting and she was looking for the shooter. This was no different than in her world. This was real. This was a real thing. She was going to be killed.

"Crap," she breathed, bursting into sudden tears. "Oh crap- oh crap- oh- holy crap-"

She turned to run down but the escalator had made it to the top and she turned and saw the food court.

The cavernous room with a high domed ceiling sewed together with windows was a wreck. Smoke was pouring from one of the stores, a Dairy Queen, as about thirty different stores lined the circular walls. People screamed and ran, some cowered under the tables. The hundreds of chairs were overturned and singed. Fifteen law enforcers surrounded the room, all of their guns aimed at the five people who were standing on the tables. Gwen felt the whole world slow around her and her brain seemed to stop working.

She could've sworn it was him, though she didn't believe it. Bryan Mills' voice in the OASIS simulation meant nothing now.

There was no mistaking Jason's iconic battered hockey mask.

End.


	5. General, Lieutenant, Commander

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE PROPERTIES USED

How Jason Vorhees, the iconic serial killer from 'Friday the 13th' was standing on a table with a shotgun rifle, she did not know. Nor did she know why Freddy Krueger, the iconic serial killer from 'Nightmare on Elm Street' was standing on a table two tables down.

She had recognized them in an instant, perhaps faster than she had recognized Snape. Jason, shotgun in his dark tinged hands, really was a hulking creature with wide shoulders and buff arms. His black raincoat, black turtleneck, and black rain-pants were soaked, dirty, and torn in places. That iconic mask with its emotionless holes for eyes, was chipped and strapped over his grimy ears and wispy hairs. He was breathing heavily, his whole form moved with each breath. How the table was withstanding his weight was a complete mystery to Gwen.

Meanwhile, Freddy Krueger was the exact opposite of Jason. Tall and nimble with lanky arms that dangled by his sides, each holding dual pistols. His scarred and burned pointed face glared out from under his iconic brown and tattered fedora. His red and green striped sweater, however, was in a much better condition that Gwen imagined. It was clean and had a nice turtleneck. It would've dangled off of his thin body had it not been for the two suspenders pinning it to his chest. His right hand was what drew Gwen's attention, as it was gloved and disfigured with long blades for claws.

She was paralyzed, her eyes popping and swivelling between them. They couldn't be there- Bryan Mills said that they didn't exist- they weren't real- they couldn't be-

But they were. Believe it or not. As Gwen stared horrified at them, her eyes crossed the table between them. Her head went cold the way it always did when she had an anxiety attack and the floor swayed under her feet.

For between them stood the one that scared her the most. The one who who had given her the nightmares. The one who had opened her eyes to horror genre.

Dr Hannibal Lecter stood on his table, shorter than the other two murderers and more human. Probably because he WAS human. He wore his signature blue jumpsuit, his balding grey hair slicked back out of his middle-aged face. There was a sick, wide grin that stretched between his sticky-out ears underneath his roundish nose. And those two, bold, indigo eyes were wide and calculating. His hands were folded behind his back and he calmly analyzed the scene.

To Gwen, the man looked exactly like Anthony Hopkins- _exactly_ like Hannibal. But something in her brain was telling her it wasn't him. It couldn't have been him- it wasn't- he wasn't real-

There they stood: three men who looked exactly like Hannibal, Jason, and Freddy. But they weren't. Gwen was in denial now. She was tricking her mind, and she was succeeding. They weren't real. These were just enthusiastic cosplayers, of course! Nothing more!

"You got four seconds," a human Starfleet officer in yellow called to the man who looked like Hannibal Lecter. "Put your hands up, step down from the table, let the hostages go."

The man who looked like Hannibal Lecter continued to smile that horrible, messed-up, psychotic, unreal, not-possible-in-real-life smile.

"No, I don't think I will,"

The creature even sounded just like Anthony Hopkins.

But couldn't be of course.

"Four seconds? That's a strange number,"

Not Jason had spoken. Actually spoken. His voice grunted, deep and inhuman, but it became less intimidating when it l cracked halfway through sentences like he was going through the worst stage of puberty.

Gwen's brain was still not processing that they were there.

"Strange? How is that strange?" Not Freddy Krueger called to him in Robert Englund's voice and there was an air of annoyance in it.

"Well, don't they usually count down from five?" Not Jason asked, shrugging.

"Look, it's not relevant, idiot." Not Freddy Krueger groaned, rolling his eyes.

"_You're_ an idiot!"

"Boys, boys. You're both idiots," Not Hannibal sighed, raising his hands. "Now, why don't you do the entire universe a favour and stop talking. It's me they're interested in."

"Three!" the yellow officer shouted.

"What good is this going to do?" Not Hannibal asked calmly, folding his hands behind his back. "I say violence is messy and needless when you can end things with a conversation. Why don't we sit down-"

"They're gonna shoot you," Not Freddy Krueger jumped down from the table and began to back away, raising his pistols. How he would fire that right pistol with that hand was a mystery to Gwen.

"No they won't," Not Hannibal said.

"Two!"

"They're gonna shoot you," Not Jason whispered.

"No they won't," Not Hannibal sighed.

"ONE!"

They didn't fire their weapons at first, for the entire world seemed to slow down. Not Hannibal looked up from staring down at the small army of law-enforcers, straight through the air.

He and Gwen locked eyes.

She felt her body go rigid. He was staring at her. She was staring at him.

He stopped smiling and frowned, as if he was unsure about what exactly he was seeing.

"Well, would you look at that. There's a teenager." he marvelled.

Gwen's brain shut off. Her entire body shut off. The last thing she remembered was the officer screaming "FIRE!" and someone collided into her, knocking her to the floor hard. Her head hit the cement and there was only black. She preferred it to the alternative.

"What were you thinking!? HEY!"

Someone was screaming at her.

Someone slapped her face.

Hey, that hurt, man.

Her face was slapped again.

Okay, really? Uncool.

"What- were- you- thinking?"

Her eyes flickered open.

She was resting in a slumped sitting position underneath a table, backpack beside her. Her head was pounding and it just occurred to her that was the first time she has ever fallen unconscious.

It was a weird feeling, especially since the movies always made it look so simple. But it wasn't. Falling unconscious must've been like dying. You were nothing. It also hurt a lot.

"Are- you- an- idiot!?"

The hand of the face before her raised and Gwen screamed.

"I'm alive! Stop!"

"Yeah, you're glad you're alive! You better be glad that your alive! You just did the hands-down, most stupid thing I have ever seen in my entire life!"

For a moment, Gwen felt she was still unconscious or that perhaps her head wasn't working yet. She could swear that kneeling underneath the table with her was Tom Cruise.

There was no way to describe him rather than...well, Tom Cruise. As Tom Cruise had such a unique yet average on-the-street face. His dark brown hair was parted but fell over his forehead a bit and he was wearing all black with a black buttoned shirt and coat.

"Wait- Wait a second-" Gwen moaned, holding her head from it throbbing.

"Yes?" Tom Cruise asked.

There was a sudden shower of sparks above his head and he ducked, despite them being well-protected underneath the table. Gwen pointed at him and grinned.

"You're Ethan Hunt!" she breathed. "From 'Mission: Impossible'! Oh my gosh! I'm a huge f-"

Tom Cruise suddenly clapped a hand over Gwen's mouth and looked around. His palm was sweaty and Gwen made an expression of distaste solely with her eyebrows.

"What did you just say? I dunno what you're talking about. My name is not-" Tom Cruise laughed nervously, glancing around.

Say what you would about Tom Cruise but Gwen couldn't deny he had a nice smile.

"Listen kid, you must think I'm- I'm someone else but still I mean-"

"Then why," Gwen hissed, jerking away from his hand. "did you cover my mouth?"

The man looked around for a moment and jabbed a finger into the girl's chest.

"Alright, kid, who have you been talking to?" he snarled.

"No- no, it's okay-" Gwen said quickly, not liking the murderous look in his eyes. "I haven't been talking to anyone- I mean it-"

"So how do you know my name?"

So it _was_ Ethan Hunt. Gwen felt her heart soar. It wasn't that she loved Tom Cruise, she just found Ethan such an awkward computer geek in situations in the 'Mission: Impossible' movies. Especially since he only fought three times in the first movie and did the rest on a laptop. She admired that.

She liked him for his intelligence and how every once and a while, he would actually stop and think about what he was doing. In the new trailer for his next adventure-

_What are you doing?_

_I- I'm jumping out a window!_

_Oh. Well, good luck then._

"Wow- okay- look- you wouldn't believe me if I told you but-"

"We're hiding under a table from a former agent and his weird lackeys. I'm willing to believe anything at this point," Ethan Hunt sighed. Another shower of sparks rained upon the table.

"Okay. Well I'm- Wait- a former IMF agent?" Gwen had suddenly remembered that she was hiding from a group of people who looked like horror movie characters. "Which ones a former IMF agent?"

"You know about the-" Ethan snapped.

He looked around a third time and his eyes were wide. He moved his face so close to hers, their noses were nearly touching. Gwen's heart raced, trying to analyze the situation calmly in her head but couldn't seem to process it relaxed. Her brain was running a mile a minute and was currently in a state of-

_OhmygoshEthanHuntisrealandhe'srighttherewhatdoIdohe'ssosuspiciousofmeohmygosh._

"How do you know about the IMF?" Ethan said breathlessly.

"Same way I know about you!" Gwen said. "I watched the movies!"

"M-Movies?" Ethan stammered, squinting.

"Well, not all of them yet. Just 'Rouge Nation' and the first one but I know a bit- like, I think you're married-" A hand was clapped over her mouth again.

"What the hell are you doing? You can't say this stuff out loud, you know?"

She shoved his hand down again with a glare. "I can't explain myself if you keep stopping me! I know who you are because where I come from- you're not real!" She remembered the video and a lightbulb clicked on. "I'm an All-Know-"

"You can't say that either!" Ethan hissed between his teeth. "Do you know how dangerous that is!? The All-Knowers aren't real! Claiming to be an All-Knower is like, to some people, claiming to be a god!"

"But I _am_ an All-Knower! I am! That's how I know about you and the Impossible Mission Force and Benji and Luther and Isla!" Gwen protested.

A voice with a familiar Welsh accent suddenly cat-called through the food court.

"Ethan! Come out! There's no point in hiding! You came to fight me!"

In that moment, she broke mentally. She moaned and burst into tears.

"Hey- hey- what's wrong-" Ethan's voice cracked to concern.

"He's not real. Tell me he's not real," she gasped out, covering her eyes, sobbing.

"He's the former agent,"

"Wait- h-he's-"

Of course. Anthony Hopkins played an IMF agent in 'Mission: Impossible 2', uncredited. Ethan must've thought it was the same man! And- and maybe it was!

"Okay," Gwen breathed.

"Look, I gotta talk to him, okay? I'll be right back," Ethan said, whipping a handgun from his coat. Gwen felt desperation flow through her veins and she reached out, grabbing his coat.

"No- Ethan- please don't go- Don't leave me-"

"Hey, you shouldn't have come up here, okay?" Ethan whispered. "I'll be fine."

"Ethan- What if-"

"I'll be fine,"

He stood up from under the table.

"Ahh," Not Hannibal called. "There you are."

"I wanna talk with you," Ethan said plainly.

"Bad idea," Gwen hissed. "Bad idea, bad idea,"

She turned so that she was on hands and knees under the table and she could watch what was going on. His gun raised, Ethan had walked past her among the labyrinth of overturned seats and tables, facing Not Hannibal, who was seated on another table cross-legged with a handgun.

The fighting in the food court had ceased. Everyone had their eyes on Ethan and Not Hannibal.

His face was typically and psychotically happy but for some reason, Gwen's brain couldn't process it to be tangible. He was surrounded by his 'lackeys' Not Freddy Krueger, Not Jason, and two other monsters who Gwen noted as another blue-jumpsuit wearing maniac with a white mask that looked like William Shatner, and a woman in a tattered white dress with a permanent scowl on a greenish face almost completely covered by long, greasy black hair.

"Before you speak," Not Hannibal held up a finger, and Gwen found herself holding up a more controversial one in response.

"I want you to refer to me as 'general'."

"General?"

"Yes, that's what I'm calling myself. I'm the General. I think that's a pretty good name. What do you think? All of my friends like it, don't you guys?" Not Hannibal said cheerfully.

"Yeah..." Not Jason muttered.

"Sure..." Not Samara Morgan rolled her big eyes.

"Absolutely, sir! Brilliant title, as always!" Not Michael Myers nodded. He seemed eager to be in the General's favour.

"Okay," Not Freddy Krueger groaned. The General shot him a deadly look.

"General it is then," Ethan sighed. "Listen, you need to hand yourself in."

"That's sort of a really stupid terrible idea, Ethan," the General said, frowning. "Here's a better idea: you walk away and we continue to steal food? Sound good?"

"Let the hostages go," Ethan said.

Now Gwen saw the hostages. They were a cluster of five gagged people, all with wide eyes, held against the the singed Dairy Queen counter, tied up behind Samara, who glare unmovingly.

"Okay," the General rolled his bold blue eyes. He clicked a button he was holding and suddenly, the hostages fizzled out into nothing. Gwen gasped and so did Ethan.

"What did you-"

"They were holograms, doofus!" Not Jason laughed. "Boom! Gotcha! In your face-"

"Stop talking. You're lowering everyone's IQ," the General snapped. "Anyway. Like I was saying. We're going to continue to steal Dairy Queen products and you can just go."

"Don't be stupid, okay?" Ethan said.

"Too late," Not Freddy Krueger coughed.

"I'm going to kill you when we get home, you got that?" the General snapped at him. "Okay? I swear. I'm going to do it this time."

"You tell me that every day and you never do," Not Freddy Krueger groaned, reloading his handguns. "Maybe you should follow through sometime."

"You know what? Maybe I should!" the General barked.

"You won't, you know,"

"Don't be so sure about that-"

"I'm the Lieutenant, I'm a valuable source-"

"- I really hate you-"

"- you won't kill me because I'm a good soldier-"

"- You need to focus and look at Ethan, okay?-"

"- But of course our friendship doesn't matter-"

"- Focus on Ethan and his- what do you mean our friendship doesn't matter!?"

"Friendship is magic," Not Jason butted in.

There was silence and the General and Lieutenant slowly turned to look at him.

Not Hannibal collected himself and looked at Ethan with a forced smile.

"What were you saying, dear boy?"

"You are a rouge agent," Ethan said carefully, giving Not Jason an expression of total and utter disbelief. "This is between you and me. Therefore, you are going to listen to me and stop doing...whatever all this is!"

The General seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Let me think...no. I don't like that,"

"Wait, what makes you think he's an IMF agent?" Not Samara asked in a warbling monotone, folding her pale arms.

Ethan squinted, his gun still aimed at the General's head.

"Don't pretend to be stupid. He used to be one of the missions directors and he knows it,"

"Remind me," the General said, leaning his chin on his palm, propping himself on his crossed knee.

"You gave me the mission to find the German-made virus!" Ethan cried angrily.

"I don't remember ever doing such thing,"

"You spoke to me face-to-face!"

"I don't think I did,"

"Whatever you say, I don't care. I remember it and now I'm taking you in,"

"Is that child still there?"

Gwen felt her body shrink significantly as the General glanced down, past all of the chairs and tables, and looked at her again.

She desperately tried not to cry and move out of sight. Ethan shouldn't be talking to him as much as he was... That was what her best friend said. Never talk too much to Hannibal. This...wasn't Hannibal though...was it?

"What?" Ethan cried, now shaking with fury from the extreme conversation disruptors the criminal was making. "No! Of course not!"

"I can see her," the General said with a bored look, straightening up.

Ethan turned and looked at Gwen and back to the General. "You can see her?"

The General rolled his eyes over-dramatically.

"What do I look like? A tyrannosaurus rex? Of course I can see her! Why is she staring at me like I'm the most hideous creature in the world? It's highly offensive,"

"Maybe," Gwen whispered through gritted teeth. "it's because you are the most hideous creature in the world."

Ethan could shoot him now. Why didn't he just shoot him? He could have one bullet in and it would all be over. But Ethan wasn't that kind of man. Not yet anyway.

"I want to see her clearly," the General said with a smirk that showed off two rows of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. Tears of horror leaked out of Gwen's eyes. "May I?"

"This is between you and I!" Ethan snapped.

"I'm sorry. You don't look like the FBI," Not Hannibal said coldly. "I want to see the girl."

Gwen straightened her backpack and wiped the tears from her eyes. She spotted a small butter knife lying a few feet away from her. She had it all planned out. She could crawl over to it and grasp it, holding it behind her back in the same way John McClane had killed Hans Gruber.

But the plan wasn't sending any signals to her body. She couldn't move. She was too scared.

"Why don't we listen to Ethan for a few moments?" the Lieutenant suggested quickly.

"Yes!" Ethan said. "Why don't we?"

"I WANT TO SEE HER!" the General suddenly screamed, his voice echoing through the food court, sending a violent electricity through Gwen's body that sent her skidding out from underneath and grasping the knife.

She jumped to her feet, her arms and legs snapping to attention, hiding the knife behind her. She didn't even know how she had done it. She had watched her body from the outside do the stupid decision.

Why did she ever decide to see who was shooting up the food court? She hadn't gained anything except the new forced opportunity to stand behind the famous Ethan Hunt...three-dimensional real Ethan Hunt... staring into the grinning and violence-restraining face of a cannibal.

"There she is," he said. "In her bright yellow Georgie coat."

Gwen felt light headed and started to cry again.

"I'm going to faint," she hissed to Ethan, and she meant it. Ethan shushed her. "Ethan- please- just shoot him- shoot him-"

"What did you say?" Ethan breathed, turning to face her. His eyes were wide with horror.

"What did she say?" the General called.

"Shoot him- please-" Gwen sobbed, shaking. "You don't understand- He can't live- you don't get it-"

"Are you seriously suggesting I murder this man?!" Ethan hissed. "Are you insane?! How old are you? Do you seriously think taking the life of this man will benefit anything?"

Gwen glared through her hot, streaming tears at the General and nodded. "Yes,"

"Someone looks angry," the General said with a smirk. "Why are you angry?"

Gwen didn't say anything. She could feel something in her stomach. Something like hatred, fear, sickness, horror, and murder all blended together into a single mixture.

"Go on. Whatever you told Ethan, you can tell all of us," the General said.

All of the horror movie characters were staring at her, just like in one of her nightmares.

She said nothing. But something did come out of her mouth.

She screamed.

The blended mixture in her stomach rocketed into her throat and she screamed harder, higher, and louder than she had ever screamed before. Everything she had ever learned about these creatures came out in one long, ear-piercing scream that she could hardly believe came from her mouth. She closed her eyes and looked at the ceiling and continued to shriek, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she could scream the horrible things away.

Her voice cracked and she shut her mouth. There was still a banging echo around the court and one of the windows on the ceiling at actually cracked. Gwen looked down, her fists clenched to white over the knife behind her back.

The looks on the horror characters' faces were unbelievable. All of them were frozen. Hannibal's eyes were wide and his jaw had dropped, he looked unnerved. It was a nice look for him. Krueger's face was the same and the colour had drained from it, as had Samara.

Ethan was also staring at her and turned back to them, shaking his shoulders.

"I think she said a lot,"

The General stuck a finger in his ear. "I believe you may be right,"

The silence between them was awkward and Gwen lowered her hands to show that she had a knife on her and the Lieutenant pointed.

"She's got a knife,"

"That says quite a bit more," the General said. He then made a nudging movement with his hand.

"Go on. Go back to whatever mental asylum you came from."

A voice came from Gwen but she hadn't controlled it nor did it sound like her. But the voice from her said, very clearly and defiantly-

"Same to you,"

She clapped a hand over her mouth, tears flowed over it. Ethan turned slowly and gave her a look of shock that matched all of the horror characters' (except for Myers and Jason, their expressions were always sort of blank).

The General sidled down from the table and he was squinting calculatingly. Gwen took several steps back. She hadn't meant to say it- oh no- oh she was dead-

"What did you just say?" the General hissed.

There was a pregnant pause and the Lieutenant groaned, clicking one of his handguns.

"Let her go, mate, she's obviously in shock and after all, she's a distressed teenager. No threat. There's no point,"

Gwen gave him a shocked look. He was one to talk.

The General bit his bottom lip and nodded.

"Goodbye,"

Gwen nodded back and she began to back away to where the escalators were. She wanted to run away as fast as her legs would take her but she refused to have her back turned to the horror monsters.

Ethan was a thin wall between her and the monsters and there were only five Starfleet officers left standing. But even they were backing away. All else were unconscious or moaning.

"Goodbye," the General hissed, taking a step forward. Ethan raised his gun as Gwen stopped.

"Hey, hey! Look at me! LOOK AT ME!"

The General was about three feet from Ethan's gun and he slowly turned his head without moving to face the barrel of the handgun. He smiled.

"I'm looking at you," he whispered.

Gwen watched, as if in slow motion, as the General reached into his jumpsuit and raised his own handgun at her face.

She spun around once her brain sprung into motion and took off running towards the escalator just as there was another BANG that gave away all of the sense of hearing in Gwen's ears.

She fell down against the floor and covered her head. But she hadn't been shot.

She didn't see Ethan's hand swing upwards and knock the General directly in the side of the head with the gun.

She didn't see the officers jump up and attack the other monsters. Ethan and the General were locked in a heavy combat, both had pulled out knives and were slicing at the air at one another.

The General had begun by simply ducking and swerving left and right as Ethan struck blows at him.

"Wow," he said with a wide grin. "Wonderful. Very good. Oops, missed. Not quick enough. You're terrible at this. They let _you_ in the IMF? Please."

Flat on the floor, Gwen looked through her hands at the sideways fight and gasped as the General bent his entire back underneath a swipe from Ethan's dagger. He then swung his right leg around, sweeping Ethan's knees inward and sending him forward. The General caught the knife with ease. Ethan sprung back to his feet and continued to send strikes at Hannibal but he merely ducked and dodged again, now laughing coldly as if he was watching the most amusing thing ever.

Ethan aimed around the middle of the man, now watching his fist with extreme interest. But Gwen, who got to her feet again, still vibrating violently from the shot taken at her, realized Ethan's main plan. Hannibal was so interested in protecting his stomach, he didn't see Ethan take a swing right at his face.

WHAM.

Ethan's fist connected with the side of the General's face and it spun him around, causing him to drop both knives.

"That was...good, Ethan, but I mean-"

Ethan brought his fists down hard on the General's back and he gasped for air. Gwen grinned.

Ethan continue to pound Hannibal in the face but around the fourth blow, a quick arm flicked upright and deflected it. Gwen stopped grinning immediately. She knew that block. She'd done that block.

Hannibal grinned from under his blocking arm at Ethan and made a full one-eighty turn on one leg, kicking Ethan hard in the stomach. Ethan was sent flying backwards into a table.

The General picked up his knives again and twirled them in his hands. He didn't even notice how Michael Myers went flying over his head from a hard-core phaser blast as he advanced on Ethan.

"Quite fascinating, I must say," He was talking with a swelling under his left eye. "I expected more, though, from the famous Ethan Hunt."

He raised an knife, leaning over him, but Ethan suddenly swung his left hand right across the right of Hannibal's face. It appeared he had missed until Ethan rolled away and squatted, clutching a plastic butter knife and a new slit appeared on the General's right cheek. It began to bleed.

Hannibal reached up, touched it, and looked down at his fingers, which were stained with blood that looked both scarlet yellow like a bloody honey. Maybe that was eating people did to you.

Still, the expression of fury was unbelievable, mostly because he was grinning.

"I really hate you," he snarled in a quiet voice.

"Feeling's mutual I guess," Ethan shrugged, on his feet again. "Oh thank God- the FBI finally showed up."

He gestured to a wall behind the General's head, but the distraction worked.

The General spun around.

"Finally!"

Ethan lunged at his back and jumped right into the General's back, locking his arms and legs around his neck.

Gwen screamed and clapped a hand over her mouth the second she had. Ethan was beating Hannibal over the head with his fists while the man underneath wobbled around, making a shrieking nose like a banshee. They struggled with one another, Ethan dodging more attempts from knives and then brought his legs hard together, pinning Hannibal's arms.

"How- are- you- so- strong?!" Ethan shouted.

"Remerber Serah Cernnor?" Hannibal gasped.

"Uh? Yeah?"

"Yearh, lerk thert,"

Ethan then swung his entire body backwards and flung Hannibal's body into the air, sending him sprawling backwards across the floor.

Gwen whooped and applauded. Ethan turned to face her, frantically waving his arms.

"Kid! Get downstairs! Now!"

One Starfleet officer fighting Krueger turned to see who Ethan was shouting at and Gwen felt her stomach shrivel into nothing.

It was the same Trill officer she had nearly broken the wrist of. He pointed at her with his bandaged hand.

"HEY! YOU!" he cried.

"Yeah, YOU!" Hannibal added, wobbling to his feet and pulling a new handgun from his jumpsuit. Gwen looked between the two of them and sized them up. In the case that she would be arrested... She automatically moved towards the angry Starfleet officer.

"COMMANDER!" the General yelled. Jason snapped to attention after punching an Andorian officer in the face. Hannibal rolled his eyes and pointed at Gwen.

The Commander turned and faced Gwen. He had neglected his shotgun and instead, his signature machete was in hand.

"Oh shit," she breathed.

She turned around and started pounding down the down escalator as the Commander thundered after her.

Gwen had never run down a moving escalator and it was disorienting. It made her feel like Chihiro from 'Spirited Away' when she ran down all of those steps. Except now she had a machete wielding maniac from her nightmares after her.

"SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-" She hit the bottom and it sent her rocketing across the floor and sprawling to the ground.

The Commander was riding down the escalator lazily and Gwen screamed at him, sobbing.

"OF COURSE! YOU NEVER RUN ANYWHERE, DO YOU, FREAK?"

"Freak? Man, that's kinda hurtful," the Commander said.

Gwen scrambled to her feet but fell over again, cursing loudly and crying. She tried again just as Jason stopped riding the escalator and she took off running back down the now deserted mall hallway.

The Commander didn't run after her but that didn't fool her. He never ran anywhere, that was the point. Gwen ran for nearly a straight five minutes down the hallway and around another hallway, and another. And another. The key was not to stop.

A stitch was screeching at her side and she herself was screaming at the ceiling but she did not stop. She turned and looked behind her after racing down five different hallways, all ones that looked the same, to see if he was still behind her.

She wanted him to be behind her. If she lost sight of him, that was bad because then he could spring out from anywhere.

She stopped, panting on her knees, gasping for air as he strode down the hallway towards her.

"Okay, fine, you got me to do some running," the Commander sighed. "But it sucked."

"I- don't- care!" Gwen gasped. "I- hope- you- suffer!"

"Hurtful. Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?"

"My mother doesn't chase me with a machete and try and kill me!"

"I'm not trying to kill you,"

"Oh- yeah-" Gwen started to back away again, wiping her face of tears that refused to stay in her eyes. "Jason Vorhees- isn't- going- to- kill me! Like I- believe- that!"

"Dude," Jason stopped walking. "How come no one ever believes me? Is it the mask? I think it's the mask. Not even the General believes me! _The Privates didn't take your stuff, Commander, you misplaced it! There's no Platymole in the basement, Commander, you're just an idiot! 'Footloose' was a great event in history, Commander, geez!_" He stomped his foot. "I'm so sick of it! He believes the Lieutenant! He believes the Captain! I outrank the Lieutenant in every other army in the world and he barely believes me!"

Gwen was still backing away, her heart throbbing through her chest. "Wait- Did you say 'Platymole'?" she asked cautiously. "What's a Platymole?"

"You know! Little black platypus without a big tail who takes all your shiny stuff!"

Gwen's brain lit like a Christmas tree. "A Niffler?! You know what a Niffler is?!"

"Well, I do now," the Commander shrugged.

Gwen frowned and while Jason was preoccupied thinking about Nifflers, she took off running again. Her feet pounded against the hard cement of the hallways, adrenaline still racing through her body.

She started praying as she ran down four more hallways. She turned in a hallway with more restaurants, opened yet abandoned from the shock of Hannibal's gunshots. Jason was nowhere to be seen.

"Shoot," Gwen whispered.

She looked around and her eyes fell on an open Subway. The kitchen knife stood out about a mile away as if illuminated just for her. She crossed the hall into the green and brown store and turned the corner to behind the counter, wiping the sweat from her face. She picked up the shiny, silver and large kitchen knife from its placeholder.

Ducking under the counter, Gwen kept her eyes on the hallway. The Commander lumbered into view, glancing around.

"Where did you go?"

Gwen refused not to take her eyes off of him but kept the rest of her body hidden.

The Commander began to look in each of the shops but 'look' was really another term for 'glance' as he merely ducked his head in and looked around.

"If you just showed yourself, it would make my life a hundred times easier because honestly, I do not need the General on my back,"

He put on a high pitched voice with a horrible Welsh accent. "_It's your own fault you lost her, you lumbering idiot._"

Gwen held the knife tightly as he neared her shop. One by one, Jason stuck his masked face into the stores and Gwen felt her spine freeze as he looked directly into the Subway.

'Please tell me that mask constricts his vision,' she thought, shaking silently. 'Please, God, tell me he can't see well."

The Commander then began to walk into the Subway, poking at the chairs and tables with his machete, kicking away fallen plates and sandwiches. He looked from wall-to-wall at the posters of rich food and his heavy black boots made a 'gadunk' noise every time they hit the floor.

Gwen crouched completely underneath the counter and began to crawl to the left, slowly...quietly.

The Commander was barely a few feet from the counter and Gwen nestled herself in the tiny space between the top of the counter and the bottom where plates were kept. She wept silently as Jason stood directly over the counter.

His boots thunked to the left and she heard his hand push open the door leading to behind the counter...

"What are you DOING?" cried an angry voice.

Gwen ceased crying.

The Commander had jumped as Freddy Krueger raced into the shop and pounced at him, hands on Jason's shoulders.

"I'm looking for the girl- I think she's behind there!" the Commander argued. "Now, why don't you do something useful?"

"Useful?!" Krueger cackled. "You wanna talk useful? Our general is up there getting the snot kicked outta him and you're down here look for a kid? Listen to me, she's just a kid! She's not gonna do anything!"

"I wasn't going to kill her, I swear!" Jason snapped. "I was gonna ask her who she was and stuff- Oh don't give me that look! I hate that look! And the General sent me down here himself!"

Krueger sighed and shook his head. "I admire your...resourcefulness. But come on. Let her go. I doubt the General really wants her. He's all show, you know. She doesn't know anything."

"Ha! That's where your wrong! Dude, she knew my code!"

"What?"

"She said- 'Jason Vorhees'! That's me, right? Well she knew!"

"You must've told her,"

"No! I didn't! I bet she knows all of our names! I bet she's part of the IMF as well!"

"Are you sure? That's weird. No one knows who we are,"

"She also knows about Goldblood,"

"The General's pet Platymole?"

"Yeah, the one he didn't believe me about. She says they're called 'Nifflers',"

Krueger glanced around and Gwen looked up from behind the counter to see he and the Commander leaving the Subway in conversation.

"Look, we can talk about this later, okay? We need to get back up there! The Colonel bailed and Scout's getting shot at worse than Greedo at a table with Han Solo!" Krueger hissed. "We need to back our leader up!"

"Aw, you're just trying to get the Captain's rank by kissing butt," Jason sneered.

"No I'm not! I don't wanna sit and type at a typewriter all day! That's a terrible job!" Krueger yelled. "This is why I like to drive, okay? I actually took a Human Driving Course!"

"I'm not taking one of those dumb courses, they take too long!"

"Well, you should've chosen a different outfit because there's no way you can see well through that mask. And besides, I'm second in command. I don't NEED a captain's rank,"

The two walked to the left away from the stores, back down the hallway and their arguing voices disappeared.

Gwen rose to her feet and crept out from the Subway counter and through the store.

That was when lights above her flickered violently and she froze. The lights continued to flash and there was a groaning sound. Gwen spun round and looked at the back wall.

The flickering lights were, sending the store into strobe darkness, but she could see the wall behind the counter start to move and bulge as if something was pushing through them.

Gwen held the kitchen knife tightly and her mouth began to open as there was a horrible squelching nose.

The wall ripped open and a long, grungy, and long fingered-hand burst from it, reaching and grabbing.

Gwen screeched and ran the other direction out of the Subway and into the hallway. But she accidentally turned to the left and came face to face with the Commander and Lieutenant again. She froze.

"Mind telling us what that was?" the Lieutenant asked.

He glanced up and saw the flickering Subway and frowned.

The flickering ceased.

"What was that?" he repeated. Gwen began to back away.

She knew exactly what it was and she preferred it over these two any day.

"Know what it was?" Krueger repeated, stepping towards her. The Commander bounced his machete in his hand, leaning forward so that he could get a look inside the Subway.

They were advancing slowly on her and Gwen's heart had almost stopped. Her legs were like jelly.

"You knew the Commander's name so you wanna tell us what that was all about? Don't worry, kid, I'm not gonna hurt you." A nasty smirk cracked on Krueger's face.

Jason stopped advancing, glancing in on the Subway, which flashed its lights again. "Um- Lieutenant, you might wanna look-"

"Come here, kid," Krueger extended his long bladed hand to Gwen and she felt ready to puke.

Suddenly, Freddy yelped and in an instant, his arms and legs suddenly snapped to his sides. Gwen shouted and so did the Commander as the Lieutenant wobbled for a second and then fell backwards hard on the ground.

She wheeled around and beamed in spite of her horrible fear.

Professor Snape stood down the hall, his long black wand pointed at them, his eyes full of something Gwen couldn't describe. It was beyond hatred but almost relaxed and relieved at the same moment.

The Commander nearly dropped his machete and began to back away.

"Oh sh-shoot. N-Not you again!"

Snape scowled silently and strode towards them, his black eyes glittering with a hunger for something to suffer before him.

Gwen was satisfied to see the Commander back off and start to run the other direction. Snape held up his other hand and whispered something. The Commander was thrown into the air and hit the ceiling, pounding against the ground hard. He didn't move.

"Thanks- that was totally awesome- you're amazing-" Gwen spluttered.

Tucking his wand away, Snape barely looked at her as he strode the other direction, black cloak billowing behind him.

"Hey! Hey, wait!" Gwen needed to get his attention before he escaped her again and chased after him. She needed to say something now before he left forever. "W-Wait a second-"

Snape paused and Gwen rounded him, beaming from ear to ear and jittered with excitement. He looked down his hooked nose at her as she gazed up at him.

"Thank you," she breathed, blushing.

"Don't mention it," he muttered.

The Subway began to flicker again and his attention turned to it.

"No, I mean it, thank you so much,"

"I said don't mention it,"

"Do you- do you know them?"

Snape ignored her and strode over to the Subway. Gwen flexed her fingers over her knife.

"Hey- Be careful! There's a Demog-!" she called, bounding over to him.

Snape raised a hand for her to be silent. They stood, side-by-side in the now dark Subway, staring at the back wall. Gwen's mouth fell open.

Now there was an enormous gaping hole in the back wall. A hole with gooey strings across its middle, sending white dust and grey atmosphere from its very pit of slime, stretching vertically from ceiling to floor.

"The Upside-Down," she breathed. "It's- It's real."

The atmosphere had become very thin in the Subway and Gwen waved it away. No wonder Joyce and Hopper had worn those oxygen suits when they entered, it was hard to breathe.

Snape didn't seem to have a problem. He looked at the gaping hole with glare through his curtain of greasy hair and stepped directly into the Subway.

Gwen pulled out her phone (luckily it had not shattered) and snapped four different pictures of the gateway to the Upside-Down. She made sure to get Snape into the frame.

"Shouldn't we be careful?" she coughed through the thin air. "I mean- I saw the Demogorgon! What if it comes out and- you know-"

"What is a Demogorgon?" Snape asked quietly, still analyzing the gate.

"Well, it's the name of the monsters in the Upside-Down. Mike named them that,"

"It's a stupid name," Snape drawled.

Gwen chuckled and disagreed wholeheartedly. "Well- he was a kid-"

Snape raised a hand and his fingers were thin and rigid. His eyes narrowed and Gwen raised her phone.

Whatever he was about to do, she wanted to record it. She could record real magic. Lively, thriving magic. And her absolute favourite character of all time would be doing it.

The gateway began to shudder and the whole floor shook. Gwen gasped out as the gooey strings between the hole's walls began to snap and fall to the floor. Snape kept focusing on the gate and it groaned out. Gwen watched in awe as the wall slowly began to reseal itself together, the remaining strings of slime weaved together like yarn and stitched the enormous hole. The thin, white and silver atmosphere was sucked back into the hall like dust into an enormous vacuum. The air returned to normal and the vines creeping from the gate slid back inside. Everything was sucked inward and the stitching ceased, pulling the walls back together.

The lights flicked on and the walls made an echoing THUNK as they collided.

Snape lowered his hand and staggered for a second. He bent over and began to take on deep gulps of air. It sounded like he was having an asthma-attack.

Gwen shut off her phone and pocketed it, jogging beside him. His eyes were closed and heavily bagged, his face deathly pale.

"Are- Are you okay?"

He wasn't able to speak, he was still gasping for air. He looked horrible.

Gwen timidly moved her hand over his back and, trembling, she lay it down flat against him. Like lightning, Snape reeled on her, sending her backwards, his wand aimed directly at her face.

"It's okay! It's okay!" Gwen shouted. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"What," Snape hissed. "are you still doing here?"

"I wanted to see," Gwen breathed. "I- I wanted to see you do magic."

There was an extreme change in Snape's face. His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. He lowered his wand and then, his eyes squinted and he gave a calculating look at her. The same look he had given Harry when he had seen the Boy Who Lived speak Parseltongue.

"What did you just say?"

"I wanted to see you do magic," Gwen whispered.

Snape cocked his head to the side and his eyes were reduced to slits. "And what...makes you believe I can do magic?"

There was a silence between them and Gwen looked at her feet, her voice burning a scarlet colour she was humiliated by.

"Because...you're Snape,"

She didn't want to see his face. The extended silence told her enough. His breathing was heavy and she could almost feel the fury emanating from his system. She forced herself to look up at him, her right hand clammy over the handle of her knife.

Snape's eyes were wide and his lips were thin. His hands shook slightly as he slowly looked downwards at Gwen's Hogwarts sweater. The knife clattered to the floor as he suddenly raced at Gwen. She gasped out as Snape's hand clutched the hem of her sweater and she was lifted onto her tiptoes.

She was so close to his face, his large nose nearly touched hers. His teeth were bared and Gwen could feel her pulse pounding against her chest, as if it would run right out of her. She saw every detail on Snape's face. His eyes were mad indeed, bloodshot and tired.

He examined the girl for a moment and then he let her go. She thumped back onto the ground and staggered for a moment. Snape raised his chin and glanced around.

"I don't ever want you returning to this world. Do you understand?" he hissed.

"Wh-What?" Gwen breathed.

"You heard me. I don't know who you are but I never wish to see you here ever again. Return to whatever world you came from,"

Gwen could hardly believe what she was hearing. He had used Legilimency on her. Perfect. But did he know that she was an-

"But- I have to talk to you!" Gwen started desperately. Snape turned and walked past her, returning to the direction he had once come from. "No- Stop-"

He ignored her and she jogged after him. She was not going to let him get away- not again-

"Hey! Snape! P-Professor Snape-"

But he had already vanished into thin air with a noise like a whip and long snaking imagery.

Gwen skidded to a halt in shock from the Apparation, the way wizards teleported.

He was gone again. Gwen stomped her foot and growled angrily. She had no tears left to cry and to be frank, she was done with crying. Returning to the Subway, she retrieved her knife and passed by Freddy Krueger (lying stiff as a board) and an unconscious Jason further down.

Gritting her teeth not to shout insults, she decided to turn from them and ran in the direction Snape had gone.


	6. The First Resurrection

The five monsters strode down the Charactia Center parking garage as if on some kind of cop show, all in a line with their stolen goods, bruised and bloodied.

Ethan Hunt had been forced to retreat after he was cut in the shoulder with perfect aim by General Hannibal Lecter, who was very proud of himself, smiling evilly with his black eye. The Scout Michael Myers carried two enormous bags of melted vanilla ice cream over his shoulders. The Colonel Samara Morgan limped on a broken leg bent the wrong way, glaring typically through her dark greasy hair. The Lieutenant Krueger, his legs still trapped together, hopped alongside as if in a sack, cracked lips thin with frustration. The Commander Jason Vorhees pounded the air like the end of the 'Breakfast Club'.

They strode down the middle of the parking garage level six and the Colonel threw a ring of keys to the General and he caught them expertly without looking once.

"You-" the Lieutenant protested, trying desperately not to fall flat on his face. "- are- not- driving-"

"I think I am," the General sighed with a smile, looking at the keys. He twirled a large kitchen knife in his right hand to occupy his mind. "YOU'RE obviously not fit to drive."

"Yeah but- you- don't- have- a- license!"

"Good point," the Colonel drawled. "Gimme back the keys, honey."

"Ah ah," the General said, waggling a finger. "You threw them away and now they belong to me."

"They have the Captain's name on them and he's doesn't trust you," the Colonel whined, stretching out a white hand, glaring through her long black hair. "Give them back or I will make you."

Hannibal smiled through a nosebleed, his cheek still bleeding.

"The Captain will have go take up his complaint with you, as you gave me the keys. Now, argue you again and you shall me punished."

Samara crossed her arms and pouted. They rounded a corner of Level Six and the General sighed. "Ah! There she is!"

The monsters had their eye on a shiny, red, Plymouth Fury and as they approached it, they stared at its form as if they were facing a perfect winning lottery ticket.

It was a nice car and they had managed to drive it all the way from the mountains to New York without damaging it. The Captain was very protective of his car. He never drove it, he just wiped it with a diaper.

But the only reason they had kept it alive before was that the Lieutenant was the one driving. He was the only one with a certified license and every member of the army admired him for it.

As the General looked at the car with a hungry look in his eyes, the others all stared at him collectively with obvious concerned look.

"I've waited two years to do this," he breathed.

"Give me the keys, this is a bad idea," the Lieutenant repeated, trying to keep his balance.

"Do you see your legs?" the General snapped. "Do you see how I have the keys? Do you see that I am the General? And what are you?"

"I'm the Lieutenant," Krueger mumbled bitterly. Hannibal grinned.

"Yes, you are. Which is why I'm going to drive,"

"In all fairness," the Scout said in a muffled through the mask, "if his legs weren't being held by a weird telekinetic sphere, he would be the one driving. You being General has nothing to do with it."

The General turned slowly to face the Scout and stared at him. And stared at him. And continued to stare at him. Intensely. Unblinking.

Michael Myers stared him down for five seconds during the full ten second stare and then shuddered, turning away quickly.

"Okay! Okay! Fine! You're the General, you drive!" he cried. "You're right! As always, you're right!"

"Precisely," the General said, beaming. He approached the car and stroked its hood. "Let's do this."

Because he considered himself the only legal adult of the group, Krueger sat in the front passengers seat.

The other three all sidled into the back after throwing the two big bags of vanilla ice cream in the trunk of the immaculate car.

The Captain had kept the inside of the car just as beautiful as the outside. There wasn't a single stain on the leather seats, nor any grunge in the cup-holders. However, despite the fact that he never drove it, he had quite the collection of music discs in the glovebox. Hannibal eased himself into the driver's seat and gave a long sigh as he sunk against its back.

"Oh yes. I quite like this,"

"Yeah, we know," the Colonel groaned, her elbow on the window. "Just drive so we can get this hell-ride over with, okay?"

The General scowled at her through the rear-view window and then put the keys into the ignition. The Lieutenant pulled at his striped sweater.

"Can we put on some music?" Jason asked in a shaky voice.

"Yes, I agree! Put on some music, Lieutenant. Do something useful for once in your life," the General sneered. "I want something classical, if you don't mind."

Terrified to scratch the dashboard with his long clawed hand, Krueger opened the glove box with his left hand and opened the disc book. The General turned the ignition and the car sprung to life with a gentle and satisfying hum.

Hannibal's psychotic grin expanded.

Bitter and horrified at what was about to come, the Lieutenant removed a disc and slid it into the disc-slot above the dashboard. He was going to control what he could.

"Perfect," the General said. "Alright, let's do this."

The disc did not play what the General would call 'classical'. Instead of his ideal Beethoven or Mozart, the radio of the Fury blasted out Lou Bega's 'Mambo No. 5'.

The General looked at the Lieutenant with a face of disgust as the Lieutenant shrugged.

"I hate you," Hannibal snarled. "Don't think you're getting a raise out of this."

"You don't pay me anyway so," Krueger sighed, glancing at his disturbed nails.

The General put his foot on the pedal and the car slowly moved forward. So far so good. The two cars on either side were left untouched. The passengers in the car all held their breaths as the Fury rolled forward into the level middle. Then, for no reason, the General hit the reverse pedal.

"What the hell!" the Scout cried as the car suddenly backed up.

The car rolled backwards into the parking spot again and then Hannibal spun the wheel to the right. Everyone sunk in their seats as the car now rolled forward to the right, ultimately striking the back of the car on the right with a horrible crunch.

Everyone groaned out and the General cried- "I got it, relax!"

He backed up from his current location and with terrible BANG, he struck the car on their left square in the side.

"Here we go," the General hissed. "Come on."

"Let me drive," the Lieutenant said as the car pressed against the right's back again, starting to push it out of its parking space. Alarms blared through the level. "Let me- Here- Turn back-"

He reached over to touch the wheel and the General hissed at him, slapping his hand away.

"Let me drive!" the Lieutenant cried as they had now taken the entire back off of the car on the right. "DUDE! STOP!"

The two were now wrestling over the wheel and the car continued to move forward, straight towards a cement wall.

"IMBECILE- MORON-" The General yanked out his knife and aimed it at the Lieutenant's face. "Sit back DOWN! I've got-"

WHAM. They all collectively shouted as the car had picked up so much speed from the General's foot being on the gas, it crunched against the cement wall. The hood began to smoke.

"I'm fine! It's FINE! It's just a scratch- For goodness sake- let me do my JOB!" the General cried.

The passengers were now all pounding the General's seat and screaming at him to let the Lieutenant drive and the Lieutenant's legs had suddenly become unstuck from one another. The General hit the reverse pedal again.

"No, no, no, no-" the Colonel cried as the car backed up. There was a cracked dent in the cement wall.

"Stop, just stop the car-" Myers argued.

"You're gonna KILL us! STOP!" the Commander yelled.

"LET- ME- DRIVE!" Krueger screamed.

He looked in the rear view mirror and began to punch the General's arm. "Stop- Stop, stop the car-"

"I'm nowhere near that van," the General insisted.

"Yes, you are! You ARE! STOP!" Samara screeched.

"BRAKE! BRAKE!" the Scout bellowed.

Jason curled up in a ball and began to rock back and forth, whimpering

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" the General shrieked. "JUST SHUT-"

SMASH. The Fury's back connected hard with the already totalled van and smashed all of the windows. Hannibal finally braked.

They sat in silence, not counting the loud car alarms, as the song had finally ended. Lecter's hands were shaking white over the wheel and he was seething at the passengers.

"You," he whispered. "are all dead."

"Duh," the Colonel said.

"I MEANT," the General spat in her face, spinning on her. "I am going to kill you, smart-aleck."

"Allow us one last request," the Scout said hoarsely.

There was silence while awaiting the request. Hannibal waved a hand for him to continue.

Michael Myers looked at the Krueger, who was pinching his nose.

"Let him drive,"

Krueger had left two sticky notes on the destroyed cars and one on the cement wall with a phone number.

"What did you do that for?" Hannibal groaned, arms folded and sitting low in the front passenger's seat.

Krueger sighed and settled into the driver's seat.

"So they can bill us," the Lieutenant said. "It's the decent thing to do."

Despite missing a bumper, one tail-light, one headlight, and completely smashing the engine the car drove smoothly through New York, avoiding ever cop car that trailed them or every state they gained.

Krueger was a fairly good driver, who could navigate corners with ease and brake perfectly without jerking the car. In fact, had it not been for the fiasco in the parking garage, the Fury would've been just as perfect as it had always looked.

Their destination, their point of complete isolation from the perfect law-abiding society, was up an icy mountain in the vast reaches of the unknown.

The Fury had been integrated with a special transport booster that would take them directly to their base of operation in about one hour instead of five. But the booster was now broken, so by the time they drove out of New York, avoided customs by threatening the ticket booths with painful death, and ended up on the highway, it was already midnight.

While on the freeway, while all of the others were passed out and Hannibal muttered in his sleep, Krueger swerved into the very right lane and then, holding his breath, spun the wheel like the wheel on a Dabo table. The car screeched and swung to the right, crashing into the forest next to the highway.

Two other cars piled up on the freeway because of it. No one was killed.

The Fury busted through the pitch black woods, the Lieutenant tapping the wheel to a Chainsmokers disc he had slotted in, and didn't flinch as leaves and branches swung at the car and whacked the front window.

The car bounced up and down through the woods, jerking and clanking over trees and logs. Normally, the Fury would be able to handle these woodland areas as they were synthesized by the base of operation. Soon, the leafy greens around them frosted to snow and ice. The floor of the forest slicked to a smooth floor of ice that the car easily tracked over. It swerved down into a ramp into a dark tunnel.

Momentarily, the car was smoothly coasting through the tunnel's darkness when they were engulfed with a vibrant blue light. The light curled around them like icy blue flames, creating sparks across the car. There was a beeping noise and then- as they burst back onto the highway- the car was driving up a smooth road that curled up the icy mountain that led to the base of operations.

The Overlook Hotel, a newly advanced technological display of awe, sat dark and eerie like an evil gingerbread house, against and white on the top of a mountain, surrounded by beautiful luscious green trees complete with a towering and wavy maze behind it. It had several storeys, long gold halls with weird orange carpets, and was designed to hold the needs of everything someone wanted. Which consisted of newly automated renovations.

The General preferred, and insisted, that the army call it The Overlook Hotel. But once an officer accidentally realized that 'Base Of Operations' had an acronym of 'BOO', now most of the army members referred to it as such.

Anyone who called The Overlook Hotel 'The BOO' in front of the General or Captain usually ended up clipping the maze hedges all night in the sub-zero snow and ice.

The car reached the top of the Colorado mountain and pulled into the parking lot before the great hotel. The car spluttered and the Lieutenant groaned, smacking the wheel.

"Come on- Seriously- A bit further-"

The General snorted awake, wheeling around groggily. "Starling came back? She came back?"

"We're here," the Lieutenant growled as the Fury came to full stop and hissed. "No thanks to you. Come on, let's get this over with."

"It's your own fault you got frozen by some unknown force,"

"Let's not go down that road again,"

The group woke up and climbed outside of the car before the BOO where it was lightly snowing. It would've looked like a beautiful winter wonderland had it not been in the location of a classic horror movie.

The group took a step back and looked at what had been the immaculate Plymouth Fury. They no longer stared at it with admiration and rather with bitten lips and sweaty palms.

The General exhaled and clapped his hands together. "It doesn't look that bad!"

The others turned simultaneously and gave him a dirty look.

"Hey, you're back!"

Behind them was a man in a black cloak and white mask that looked like the painting The Scream. He was clipping the hedges around the parking lot with a large pair of silver shears.

"Do me a favour, Server," the General said with a fake smile, folding his hands behind his back.

Ghostface dropped his shears and snapped into a salute. "Yes, sir!"

"Take Christine over here," the General gestured to the car, "into the garage and...Er...put her under wraps, understand?"

The Server nodded and saluted. "Sir! Yes, sir!"

He and the Scout moved around the car.

The Scout went around the back and sighed- "Could be worse," as he popped the ruffled trunk open. He froze and his body tensed.

"Um, General?"

"Hmm? Yes?"

"One of the bags of ice cream- um-"

The General buried his face in hands and growled into them. He shook himself and put on a calm smile. "Ver- Very well. Server, if I could have you vacuum the trunk as well?"

"Yes, sir!" the Server cried happily as the Scout swung the remaining bag of ice cream over his shoulder and slamming the trunk furiously.

Ghostface pushed the shattered and ruined Plymouth Fury down the pavement through the dark, humming happily to himself as if he had been told to sweep the steps. He pushed the Fury around a corner meters down, vanishing through the light flurries in the dark. As it disappeared, the Fury flashed its back headlights all on its own, clearly angry at its current state.

The General exhaled. "Not a word to the Captain, understand?"

They crossed the pavement to the front of the Overlook Hotel. Just as the General reached for the door, the Lieutenant jumped in front of him with a finger raised.

"Wait- wait- Watch this- I had Chief Regan create a special secret knock that will scan our DNA and allow us safe entry without blasting off our heads with a bunch of lasers,"

Hannibal rolled his eyes and folded his arms as the Lieutenant turned and raised a fist. "The Chief is horrible at her job."

Krueger knocked once on the door and it echoed around the driveway. Then, he went on his tiptoes and said in a clear voice-

"Lieutenant Fred Krueger,"

They waited a second and then it swung open, striking the Commander in the face who happened to be standing too close to the door. Immediately, before them in the doorway, stood the Privates: Two small twin girls in blue dresses with pink ribbons. They stood shoulder to shoulder with bored expressions.

"Oh boy," the Lieutenant groaned. "Not this again."

"You're late," they chorused.

"Yeah, well, you're in the way," the General hissed.

The Privates looked at the General's bruised face and swollen eye.

"What happened to you?" the Left Private asked. "Did you get hit by a truck?"

"The truck didn't hit you hard enough, if you ask me," the Right Private snorted.

"I wasn't hit by a truck, you twits," The General barked. He wrestled the large back of ice cream off of the overprotective Scout's back and shook his shoulders. "I have a job for you."

"We're already doing a job," the Left Private argued.

"Oh yeah? What's that? Being annoying little tattlers?" the General barked. "I'm in charge, remember. You have to do as I say and I have a job for you."

"But we're already doing a job!" the Right Private protested, folding her arms.

"We've been standing here for three hours waiting for the pizza guy and you just happened to pop in."

"Yeah. We can't leave now!" the Left Private agreed. "What if the pizza guy arrives and can't get in? How are we supposed to pay him and how are we supposed to know if he got our orders right?"

"This is actually a pretty big problem," the Lieutenant nodded. Hannibal glared at him.

"Then the Scout can stand here and wait for the pizza guy. I need you two-" He dumped the bag of ice cream into the Left Private's tiny arms and she disappeared behind it, staggering backwards. "- to take this to load into the capsule."

"Wait- You told ME to do that!" Michael cried.

"Yes, well, that was before you made a mess of the trunk. Now you're going to stand here and wait for the pizza guy because I- said- so," the General hissed in the other's face.

He looked at the Privates and pushed by them, parting them with his arms. "Don't stand so close to the door next time, you nearly gave me a heart-attack."

"Shame," the Right Private snarled, pressed against the wall. "We should try harder next time."

The Lieutenant politely passed through them into the lobby with the Colonel and dizzy Commander in tow. The Scout analyzed the Privates and looked at the right one.

"Can you still crack all of your fingers?"

The Right Private rolled her eyes and flexed all of her fingers one by one, causing them to snap loudly. The Scout shuddered and shoved the Privates further into the long hall that led up a dark staircase.

"Go do as your told," he snapped.

The Private that did not fall over face-first from carrying the bag of ice cream turned around and gave the Scout a rude gesture before helping her companion. The Scout sat down, legs folded, and played on his outdated iPhone.

There had to be quite an number of renovations done to the Hotel, starting with the large Overlook Hotel foyer. Golden yellow floors, scarlet support beams, tall windows along the sides of the walls, scattered wooden tables and chairs, a single reception desk on the right with nothing but a single bell on its surface. This foyer was fitted with the utmost security system involving invisible lasers that analyzed your feet and could track your movement throughout the Hotel, several wall-hidden cameras, and a keyboard that you had to type your army number into in order to not be shot by a hidden taser.

The Captain and the Privates called for blood over the hotel's renovations, especially since they believed the 'inhabitants' of the Hotel would call for more serious blood.

The Privates followed the rest of the group, doing all of these in order, and marched through the foyer. At the end of the foyer were windowed doors that led directly into the great hall. In a perfect line, Lecter led the other monsters directly through the door and into the door which opened to the staircases grand staircases. They all shuffled inside.

A high ceiling with decorative chandeliers that stretched over dark wood floors, a great fireplace on the far right wall. Sofas and chairs were perfectly aligned in the center of the room in a symmetry that made all who looked on sigh of relief. The tall windows on the right were shrouded with marble white walls, and all the doors were overhung with white arches. A long brown meeting table sat in the very middle with a piano on the end. For dinners, they occasionally replaced it with a longer white table.

They did the same when they wanted to have board meetings about failed app ideas.

The General paused at the top of the grand staircase that led into the dining hall and his shoulders had gone very rigid.

This was a very bad sign.

"Um, General? I can't feel my leg so I'm just gonna goooo..." the Colonel whispered and hobbled off.

Jason inhaled to speak but the General sprung a hand up to silence him and said-

"Don't even think about it," He gritted his teeth and stormed down the staircase into the main area.

The balding brown-haired Captain, in his red jacket and blue jeans, sat at the end of the middle table alone with his typewriter and a perfect stack of papers beside him.

The General reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out a folded piece of paper, descending the massive stairs. He marched across the room, right next the Captain and slammed the folded piece of paper on the table with a SMACK that bounced around the dining room. He cleared his throat and smiled evilly, leaning over the table.

"Captain,"

"Yessir," the Captain mumbled, deeply engrossed in typing.

"Do you remember the conversation we had earlier this morning?"

"Yuuup," the Captain muttered, not really listening.

"Do you remember what I politely and trustingly asked you to do?"

"Sure thing," the Captain nodded.

"Then why," Lecter snarled, his smile fading. "is the furniture still here?"

Jack Torrance finally stopped typing and looked up, apparently just noticing his surroundings. He looked at the General, who smirked, and began to stammer with a nervous smile.

"Aw- mate, you know, I totally forgot- I meant to but the Privates filed a complaint and I had to finish writing it up-" he stuttered, holding up his hands.

"Oh really?" the General straightened up, folding his arms. "And who did the Privates file a complaint against?"

"Everyone," the Captain sighed.

The General and the others all rotated simultaneously to watch the Privates stride down the steps into the lobby, both carrying the bag of ice cream. They crossed the large room and turned a corner, disappearing went back down another hallway. As they walked by, they squinted at the others.

"If anyone should be filing a complaint against them, it's me!" the Lieutenant cried once they had gone. "I swear, they steal all of my stuff! I ordered two new boxes ray gun supplies from a former Torchwood agent and then- boom- gone."

"Yeah but, like, how do you know they stole it?" the Captain asked.

"Because they literally came to me the next day and said- 'Yeah, we stole your ray gun stuff now suck it.'" Krueger sighed. "General, no offence, but you should never have taught them the term 'suck it'."

"Everyone should learn the term 'suck it', Lieutenant. It's a universal term that speaks volumes by speaking very little," the General insisted. He looked back the Captain. "Listen, I'm not...that angry. Mad, maybe. Frustrated, definitely. But not angry. Just have Mary and her sisters come on down and move the Table, alright? We have the final piece of the puzzle now and the Resurrection has to happen tonight. The first part of the WDP will be complete."

"Woah- wait-" the Lieutenant whispered hoarsely. "We're doing this tonight? Are you sure? Are we ready for this, I mean, it's a big step and-"

"We're doing it tonight and it's my call, Lieutenant, not yours," the General snapped.

"I'm just saying. Is it wise to do it so quickly? Especially with the pizza guy coming,"

"Screw the pizza guy," the General said. "We're doing it tonight and that's final. The capsule's been loaded and the Chief cleaned the body. The lightning ordered for tonight will be right on time and we have the sugar."

"Question: how'd you steal that canister of Carbonite?" the Captain asked, folding his hands under his chin. "Surely she noticed you took it. After all, you stole enough for two resurrections. Also, how's this even going to work? The person we're bringing back has been dead for nearly 800 years."

"It's going to work," the General said blatantly. There was silence between the four and the leader looked straight at the Commander. "What's wrong, Commander? You've barely said a word since we left New York City."

The Commander shrugged and looked at the floor.

"Come now," the General egged. "No secrets between us, you know that."

"I know who attacked the Lieutenant," the Commander spit out, looking back up.

The General exhaled, leaning over. "Oh, thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to figure out myself."

"Yeah man, I didn't get a good look. Who was it? I'd like to pound the potatoes outta him," the Lieutenant pounded his fist with a grin. The Captain frowned.

"Someone attacked you?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"And you didn't kill them?"

Fred rolled his eyes but was quite used to the Captain constantly putting his abilities as an officer down, claiming he was sloppy and lazy. He was just jealous because he spent all his time on a typewriter and Krueger actually did his part of the WDP.

"He was too quick and random killing draws attention," the Lieutenant said.

"Not if it's done efficiently," the Captain murmured. Hannibal nodded and pointed at him approvingly.

"Well, Commander?" The Lieutenant ignored the previous comment. "Who was it?"

Jason inhaled and started to speak but no one caught his first words because he had suddenly become highly interested in the wall behind them. They all turned as Jack cried-

"Mary!"

Behind them were five stone angels, all in long sleeveless dresses and identical hairdos that held their hair back in buns. All of them except for the middle had their faces covered by their hands as if they were weeping.

Hannibal approached the middle angel and beamed at her. "How are you? Do you mind moving the Table and chairs somewhere else? We're holding the Resurrection tonight and the capsule's going to need its space,"

The angel stared ahead with blank eyes and a blank expression and did not move. Jack carefully moved his papers onto the floor and his typewriter into his lap. Hannibal held up a hand and counted backwards on his fingers.

Three...two...one. Blink.

All of the officers blinked at the exact same time and in less than a second, all of the chairs and sofas had vanished from the room. The angels stood together again as if they had not moved at all. Except now they were standing in positions of keeling over and breathing heavily as if having been through a strenuous workout.

"Good work, ladies," the General nodded.

There was a ding from the blood red elevators down the hall at the back of the room and everyone except the angels watched the Privates return to the lobby. They paused at the sight of everyone looking at them.

"What do YOU want?" the Left Private sneered.

"I want you little snots to bring up the capsule," Lecter

snapped.

"Now? We JUST went down there!" the Right Private whined in a high-pitched voice that made everyone in the room want to punch her in the face.

"You're NOT making our jobs easier, you know!" the Left Private snapped.

"Shame. I'll try harder next time," the General said coldly.

The Privates stuck their tongues out at him and went back the way they came. When everyone's vision had left the Privates, they discovered that Mary and the angels had all gone from the lobby. Hannibal clapped his hands together.

"Well, that settles that. I'll have the Chief prepare the capsule once it gets up here. IF it gets up here," He created a grimace that was meant to be a positive smile but his patience had really been tested by a twin-sized pain. "I'll throw those two to the incinerator if I get the chance."

"Ooh, I should probably tell you," Jack said. He set his typewriter down and this was an image that was not seen often and when it occurred, officers had been known to take pictures to prove it happened. "I wrote up a new law that should help was accomplish the WDP more efficiently."

"Um, you can't do that," Krueger said awkwardly.

"Shut up, I'm your superior," the Captain snapped.

"Nah, you can't do that," Jason added timidly.

"Shut up. I'm your superior," the Captain repeated.

"Without consulting me, you are unable to that," Hannibal explained.

"Well, too bad. It's been done," Jack said.

He handed the stack of stapled papers from the floor to Lecter, who flipped through them with a calculating expression. Jason moved next to him to read over his shoulder.

"What the hell is this?" the Commander snapped at the Captain. Krueger snatched the papers from the General without asking or hesitation.

" 'The Tract'?" Krueger read out loud. "By new order of the WDP: World Domination Plan, it is now ordered that there may be no death-threats of extremism to fellow colleagues. All death-threats must be within one quarter-cup of spilled blood, no organ-externalling, or inner psychokinetic explosions. The following is a list of death-threats that may not be uttered against an employee of the Overlook Hotel crew anyone of any rank. Okay, first of all, 'externalling' isn't even a real word. Second, we are not 'employees', alright? Third, these next five pages are all death-threats and the only ones permitted are- "Shooting in the chest around two inches from the left and five inches from the right" and "Suffocation with a rope". How do you expect us to follow this?! General!"

Lecter put a fist underneath his chin and looked at the floor, thinking hard while the other three watched on intently. He dropped both his arms, swaying them behind him, and looked at the Captain.

"Do you have a pen?"

Smugly, Jack pulled out a black calligraphy pen from the pocket of his blue and white plaid shirt. Snatching both the pen and the Tract from their holders, the General flipped through to the back page and clicked on the pen. Krueger's jaw dropped.

"G-General? You can't be serious- come on, man- that's, like, half of our vocabulary- You can't say any of that stuff either- you didn't even read the fine print- come on-" he stammered pleadingly. "Please, man, don't do this-"

"It's done and it's over," Lecter said calmly, handing the pen and Tract back to the Captain, who smiled proudly. "Captain Torrance, let's have a copy of that under a glass case on the fireplace top at all times so the others can read it. I'd also like to have a copy in my office, pretty please."

"Sure thing," Jack said. He smirked broadly at Krueger, who stepped forward so that he and Hannibal's faces were barely a foot apart.

"This is a really bad idea. The others are not going to stand for this, you know that. I don't care if you think this is best for the WDP! You have no IDEA the fire you just started-"

"Oh?" the General said in a voice barely audible. "A fire worse than you inventing the pathetic name for this place? Oh yes, Lieutenant, I know that was you, and if you want me to make your life an absolute living hell, I suggest you let me do- my- job."

"But you always make death threats-"

"It's for the BEST, Lieutenant. Without threats, I will be more certain who is NOT going to lead a resistance against me,"

He gave the Lieutenant a dirty look of ultimate suspicion and the Lieutenant took a few steps backward. He chewed on one of the blades on his right hands. The General straightened up and smirked annoyingly.

There was a pause. Then-

"Hey, Captain," Krueger said loudly. "The General drove your car home, you know."

Hannibal had stopped smirking and became very stiff, his arms wooden by his side. Jason immediately spun round and booted it all the way out of the lobby, up the stairs, and out of sight. No one had ever seen him run so fast in all their lives. It took them off guard for a minute.

"Did you now? How'd that go? How is she?" the Captain asked, typing again.

"Yeah, General, how did it go?" Krueger asked, looking back at his superior.

Hannibal's wide, shocked eyes gave Krueger all the information he needed: He hadn't signed the Tract for the 'best' of the WDP. He had signed it so that, in the case that the Captain found out about the car, he could have an easy-off from signing the Jack's law.

"Well, you see, I drove the car out of the parking garage. The Lieutenant drove it home," Hannibal said quickly.

"Oh please, don't swing this on me!" Krueger snapped.

"You barely made it out of the parking space!"

"What." Jack hissed, his fingers now hovering over the typewriter keys.

"Oh yeah! You heard me!" the Lieutenant spat angrily. "Your supportive General who signed your precious little Tract totalled your car in the Charactia Center parking lot! Destroyed two cars, a Dodge and a Toyota, and not only broke off your bumper but your front and back left headlights! He decided to drive even AFTER the Colonel told him to give the keys back!"

There was a silence and Hannibal looked at the floor, teeth bared and face an ugly brick colour. Jack was staring at him with a dropped jaw and Freddy folded his arms.

"What you have to understand," the General said slowly, looking up with dark eyes full of restraint murder. "is that the Lieutenant was handicapped. I made the call, as I am in charge of this army, this operation, this plan, and you. So if you have any accusations you desire to make against me-"

"Of course I have accusations!" the Captain shouted. He clenched the typewriter and was suddenly on his feet, rage in every line on his face. "YOU RUINED MY CAR, YOU ASSHOLE!"

Hannibal suddenly made a lunging movement as if he were about to jump, making a skin-crawling slurping nose with his lips. The Captain and Lieutenant jumped backwards into protective stances.

"Oooh," taunted a small voice. "Looks like we came just in time for the drama."

The Privates had returned in the empty lobby and now had a huge, nine foot long cylinder-shaped capsule with metal ends, and a round glass top. Inside of it was a muddy, eroded, and broken down human skeleton that looked nothing like a skeleton, covered in decomposed rags.

The General glanced at Jack and his eyes flashed.

"Sorry," Hannibal said, his lip curling. "But you two buggers are just a little late."

Ten minutes later, all eighteen members of the army, including the five Weeping Angels, stood in a vast circle around the capsule in the center of the room. Except for Torrance, of course. He sat in a singular chair and typed up everything that was going on with fingers like lightning.

Krueger stood before a large white board, in front of the fireplace, with a list of things done out in green marker, a map covered in strings, and crude photographs of bizarre looking men accompanied by a blue police box.

"We're so glad you could make it tonight," the Lieutenant said. "I know, I know. It's tempting just to skip on an occasion like this and just watch Mario Kart all evening but it's terrific that you all made the effort."

"No one even watches Mario Kart anymore," Samara called from on crutches. "It was outlawed after an audience member got hit with a Blue Turtleshell, remember?"

"Damn, I hated those things," sighed the Tracker. He was a tall clown in a frilly white costume with puffy sleeves and pants, red bobbles, a large white collar, beady yellow eyes, large white shoes, frizzy orange hair, a red nose, and red lines reaching up his cheeks from the corners of his red lips. For some reason that no one understood, he felt the need to carry a red balloon everywhere, like he was warning the universe about nuclear warfare. He was perhaps the tallest out of the entire army.

"The WDP," the Lieutenant stated intensely, "has just come into its first step."

He moved to the left side of the board where the list was. He picked up a long pointer stick and pointed to each of the steps as he spoke.

"Step one: Resurrect the Last High Priestess of Triple Goddess for use of their magical abilities- Wait. Why is 'magical' crossed out and replaced with 'Inhuman'?"

"Magic isn't real, everyone knows this," Hannibal groaned, checking his reflection in a far window. "Must I repeat it?"

"Um, I'm ninety-nine percent certain magic is real," Krueger said awkwardly.

"Magic is just a stupid explanation for something weird that we're too lazy to investigate," the General snapped. He sauntered back to the whiteboard. "There's no such thing as magic, just aliens."

"What about Doctor Strange?" the Left Private asked. "He has magic."

"You need to shut up. Nobody cares about you," Hannibal sighed, pointing at her.

"She's got a point, mate. Doctor Strange is a sorcerer," Pennywise the Tracker added in. "He's said so on the news, like, forty times."

"Doctor Strange's powers just come from energy from the galaxy that he somehow managed to harness, alright? Magic is an excuse when we don't understand something. Case closed, next step," the General answered coldly.

"But he can move his spirit out of his body-" the Right Private started.

"Next step!" Lecter barked.

Clearing his throat, the Lieutenant moved on. "O-Okay then, um, Step two! Contact and enter the Upside-Down to expand our army. We're referring to the Florajaws by expansion. Since we were able to tame the other monster race AND breed them to our desire, we should be able to do the same with the Florajaws. After THAT'S done, we resurrect a second villain but we're not sure who that's gonna be yet."

Jason's hand shot into the air. "Darth Vader!"

"Darth Vader wasn't a villain when he died, doofus!" Krueger sighed.

"We'll work on it," the General sighed. "I've got about four names down but the Lieutenant and I have to go over them one by one."

"The final step," Fred said breathlessly. "is to take the TARDIS. By taking the TARDIS, then we can take all of Charactia for ourselves."

Nobody saw the Angels change their position from weeping to suddenly looking up in intent interest. Dr Lecter began to point to the secretly taken photos of the bizarre man. He was beaming with a face ready to slay whatever spoke to him wrong.

"We snagged these photos from a website as dedicated to catching the Doctor as we are. Nobody has seen the Doctor since Christmas of last year but it's certain that he's out there,"

"How do you know it's even a he?" the Chief demanded. She was a young girl with a slimy green nightdress, wild brown hair, fangs, and beady green eyes.

"Because he IS," the General snapped.

"Well, the Master turned into a woman! Why can't the Doctor?"

The monsters around the room suddenly began to nod and agree at different times.

"I don't remember asking your opinions!" Hannibal yelled through the hall, silencing all of them. "Once we have the TARDIS, we destroy it and we take back what was rightfully ours! We kill the Doctor, we have our revenge, and only then will the multi-verses of Charactia be ours for the taking!"

The monsters burst into honest applause and a few of them whooped. The Captain did not clap, but exchanged an evil glare with the General.

The Lieutenant took a step forward. He loved public speaking, it gave him an adrenaline nothing else could.

"Once we have Charactia, we can resurrect as many of our fellow villains as he want! Zod! Hela! Darth Maul! James Moriarty! Without the Doctor, Charactia will totally be at our mercy!" he shouted.

The applause roared to the ceiling, shaking the chandeliers, weapons of all sorts were raised in victory. They had all waited a very long time to take a planet back. The General grinned all of his pearly white teeth.

"We can kill all those defied us in the past!" he screamed, eager not to have the Lieutenant take all of the spotlight. "Remember? We can all of the protagonists who attacked us! We can have revenge on all of them! We can take all of the heroes!"

The applause awkwardly died down at this and the army glanced at one another with furrowed brows and confused expressions. The General was breathing heavily, he had a lot he wanted to yell around about. But they had stopped clapping and were staring at him as if he were insane. Which, of course, there was a reason for.

"Yeah!" Ghostface was the only one still clapping. "Let's kick some proto BUTT!"

"Stop. Too much," The whisper came from the seventeen-year-old Secretary. She wore a smooth, simple pink gown that stretched to her bare toes, and a pink flower prom corsage on her left wrist. Her eyes were a startling electric blue and her hair was long and blonde. However, these descriptions were almost completely mute as her hair and dress were soaked in thick, dark red pig's blood that also coated her skin and face. She cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Um- General, sir, excuse me? If I could ask a question?"

A few people groaned, as the Secretary was in charge of the BOO Bulletin (renamed the Overlook Overview when she was around the General and the Captain) and was vile with her pen and clipboard. A lot of Army members didn't even count her as a 'villain' but more of a 'random chick of the horror genre who just happened to have her own story'.

"Yes, fine, what?" Hannibal snapped. He was eying Krueger jealously that he had managed to rouse the crowd with barely a few words.

"Um, could you explain what that piece of pink bristol-board behind you is?"

She pointed at the neon pink bristol-board that was settled on an easel behind the General. It was plastered with different pictures of the exact same woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a long nose. Some of the pictures were graffiti'd with glasses or speech bubbles.

"That!" the General cried enthusiastically. "That will be revolutionary when we continue to uphold our steps to the WDP! I call this my 'Revenge Board'! I've made one for all of you. It will help you channel your anger with the world around you, keep the evil criminalities flowing. It can be a stress-reliever as well, see?"

He pulled a green marker from the white board and turned, drawing the word 'fun-ruiner' with an arrow pointing to one of the pictures.

"You can also stab it, if you want. But I suggest otherwise if you'd like to keep it, because they're hard to make and use a lot of glue sticks," the General sighed.

"That's a terrible idea," the Lieutenant said.

"Don't be so foolish. I made you one too!"

"You can't stick a bunch of photos of Clarice Starling on a piece of bristol-board and call it revolutionary. That's the dumbest idea I've ever seen. How'd you even get those pictures, man?"

"You're the dumbest idea I've ever seen, and yet!" the General hissed. "Everyone loves you, so of course it's a dumb idea. Perfect Lieutenant can drive a car and defy his leader. Of course it's a dumb idea." He dropped his voice so no one could hear him. "Your life is going to be hell when I'm through with it. Mark my words."

Krueger felt himself swallow. He couldn't tell if it was the threat that had scared him, or the fact that Hannibal had grinned while he had said it.

The Privates' hands raised in the air and everyone looked at them with disgusted looks.

"We'll take two," they chorused.

"Excellent!" the General laughed, smirking at the Lieutenant.

"But," the Right Private said. "I want him on mine."

She had pointed behind to the Captain, who looked up and held his arms up.

"Wha- Come on! That's not fair!"

"Speak for yourself," the Left Private sneered, rolling her eyes. "I want him on mine."

She pointed right at the General's face and he gasped. Several people tried not laugh and the Tracker let out a loud guffaw before he caught himself. The General stormed towards the twins but the Lieutenant stuck out an arm and stopped him. Hannibal mouthed threats at them.

"Okay, well, can I write down your Revenge Board as a horrible idea and then get on with it?" the Secretary drawled, leaning on her right leg. "Yup? Okay? Done." She scribbled on her clipboard.

There was a loud thunder blast from outside and everyone turned to the right to look. Hannibal and Krueger cease struggling with one another and looked at the dark blizzard outside. Wrenching himself free from the Lieutenant's grasp and pointed at the Tracker and Server.

"You two- open the ceiling- right now- come on-"

Ghostface and Pennywise stumbled around the crowd for a minute, tripping over their feet, before they both reached the opposite sides of the room where there were two, small square paintings. They both flipped the paintings over to reveal hidden panels with one red button.

They looked at each other and counted to three together before simultaneously hitting the buttons.

There was a low humming noise that flooded the room. A bright neon circle of blue drew itself around the main chandelier, directly above where the capsule lay. A line of blue cut through the middle of circle vertically. There was a loud 'chunk' and the circle began to open horizontally with whirring, splitting the chandelier in two and taking the two halves cleanly apart. More distorted 'chunks' and 'whirs' followed after each other. This meant that the next four floors above them were undergoing the exact same procedure. One more 'click' and 'whir' and a grey column sprouted up in the floor above all around the edges of the open circle. The column opened directly up to the dark heavens and the winter-like temperatures were creeping into the dining room.

"Okay then," the Lieutenant said as if in a daze, staring up at the open circle. "Who's gonna raise the rod on the capsule?"

To no one's surprise, Michael's hand sprang into a salute. He was always ready to do something to impress the General. Out of all the habit butt-kissers of the army, the Scout was beyond the worst. But he did his job, and that was what mattered.

"Hey! You were supposed to be waiting for the pizza man!" the Right Private whined.

"Lazy bum," the Left Private moaned.

Myers pushed forward in the crowd and approached the capsule, flexing his fingers. He crouched around the back of it where there was a clear box holding the stolen vanilla ice cream. Next to it was a smaller capsule holding a sort of grey muck. He pressed a few buttons and up slid a long silver rod from the capsule. He dashed back into the crowd, which all began to retreat away slowly. Thunder boomed.

The Secretary's pen was shaking over her clipboard and there was a hungry look in Hannibal's eyes. They all stood, watching, waiting.

It all happened very suddenly. A enormous branch of white lightning flashed into the dining hall from the column in the ceiling. It cracked like an ear-splitting whip, the lights through the entire hotel flashing. The General had an wide and insane grin on his face, spread from ear to ear. Everyone else watched in horror, as the lightning branch collected onto the lightning rod upon the capsule. The capsule sparked and groaned. A grey smoke overflowed from under its glass lid, hissing onto the floor like it had been held with dry ice.

"IT'S ALIVE!" the General screamed.

"Really?" the Lieutenant sighed.

"Yes, really! I've been waiting forever for a chance to do that,"

The lightning retracted and the lid slid open. There was a horrible scream that erupted from the capsule and the body stood tall, soaked in the grey muck that was Carbonite, no longer an eroded skeleton in rags.

"EEEEEMMMMRRRRRYYYYYYYYSSSS!"

The monsters stood silently, jaws dropped, as a tall and pale woman stood before them.

The column closed and the lights of the hotel returned to normal.

First of all, the woman was stunning but it was obvious she was not one to cross. Her wild dark brown, near black hair flew around her face, her eyes a penetrating green. She wore a low-cut black Medieval dress, her pale face covered in dirt, her green eyeliner smudged. Around her neck was a solid metal pendant with three swirls on it. The woman breathed heavily from her outburst and looked around at the shocked monsters.

"Wow," the Lieutenant breathed. "I didn't realize that was going to work."

"You know, I didn't either," the General whispered, just as surprised. His head cocked to the side slightly as he examined the woman carefully. His heart seemed to pound just a tad harder. "I also didn't realize she was going to be so..."

"Hot?"

"Beautiful. I was going to say beautiful,"

"No you weren't,"

The woman turned around and pointed at the General's face.

"What is this?"

"Ha, ooh, burn," Freddy laughed. Scowling at him but putting on a smile for the woman, Lecter folding his hands behind his back.

"Lady Morgana Pendragon, illegitimate daughter of Uther Pendragon and illegitimate sister of Arthur Pendragon, I presume? Unless I am mistaken and you are not the beautiful and powerful sorceress I have heard so much about?" he said silkily.

"Woah. Cool it on the flattery, Fine Young Cannibal," the Lieutenant hissed.

"Who are you?" Morgana said coldly.

"I am Dr Hannibal Lecter and this is my counterpart, Fred Krueger. I am a criminal mastermind and an ex-psychiatrist. Fred used to be a janitor and that's someone who, ah, cleans toilets and sewage pipes," the General said, shooting his counterpart a dirty look.

Krueger rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, you had to bring that up,"

Lady Morgana glanced around the room and saw the column door closing in the ceiling, pushing the chandelier back together as if nothing had ever happened. She had wide eyes and pointed at it.

"What was- How-"

"Look, kid, you've been asleep for almost a thousand years. A lot has changed since Camelot fell but, don't worry, we'll bring you up to speed in no time," the Lieutenant reassured with a smile a lot more genuine than Hannibal's.

"I- I've been asleep? The last I remember- Merlin- he-"

"You were killed, Morgana," the General said slowly. "Merlin killed you but Arthur died shortly afterwards. He has not returned yet so there's still time for you to be a rightful queen to Camelot. And, of course, bring magic back into its walls."

Although he said this with a beaming and welcoming smile, the General still went by what he said previously. He believed magic was pure fiction, and that Morgana was actually just an original inhuman. Saying that magic was real stabbed him in the heart with a dull fork every time.

But whatever his opinions on magic were, he was completely captivated by the young woman and how she was suddenly alive.

Morgana looked at a loss for words. She spun around, looking at the army members, who all waved at her kindly and supportively. Except for the Secretary, who knocked Pennywise out of the way with a wide grin.

"Morgana!" She held out a bloody hand and the High Priestess recoiled. "I'm the Secretary and I run the Overlook Overview! I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about the afterlife and the Dark Ages. Did you have a boyfriend back home? How old were you when you found out Uther was your father? Did the afterlife suck or was it absolutely riveting?"

Morgana took a step backwards off of the capsule to where the General stood. He sighed.

"That's Miss Carrie White and if you want her to ruin your life, image, and reputation, answer any of those questions," he drawled.

"Are you trying to tell me," Morgana breathed, shaking slightly, "that I died, all those years ago? You brought me back to life? Camelot is gone and- and Merlin is too? Why have you brought me back? What do you want from me?"

"Relax, dear lady," the General cooed with his hands up. "All will be answered in good time. You see, I have- we have- a need for magic and I believe you can aid. After all, I've done quite an extensive amount of research on your feats and they are- ah- incredible."

"Thought you said you didn't believe in magic," The Tracker called, crossing his arms. Several people looked around at him. The General stared at him with wide eyes.

"That would be Pennywise, my Tracker," he whispered. "He knows everything about anyone should I order him to."

"That's why his forehead's so big," the Lieutenant hissed to Morgana. "It's full of secrets."

"I hate to be that one Negative Nancy-" the Tracker continued (the Lieutenant physically cringed at that statement), "- but you literally just said you didn't believe magic was a thing."

"Don't try and spin something you said on me. It's never worked before and I'm afraid it won't start any time soon," the General said with a smirk.

Morgana looked round at the makeup-faced Tracker Pennywise and strode around the capsule towards him.

"Don't believe in magic? What could I do to prove you otherwise?" she hissed.

"Hey, I never said I didn't believe in it!" the Tracker protested. "I have a healthy respect for the unknown. I've never seen magic before."

"I don't believe you," Morgana said. She smiled. "I've not used magic in so long, I'm eager to use it again." She raised a hand and several people flinched, including the Tracker. "You know, if you want to see magic, I could always pull out your still-beating cowardly heart from your chest."

"Hey! Woah!" Jack shouted from his chair. "You can't do that!"

Everyone turned to look at him, startled. They had clearly been enjoying the build up to a fight.

The General started drawing a harsh finger across his throat to try and silence the Captain but Morgana said- "I beg your pardon?"

"Say that you're gonna pull out his heart? You can't say that, it's against the Tract,"

"Tract?" Samara asked. "What Tract?"

"The Tract the General signed. You can't give hard-core death threats anymore," Jack stated as if it were obvious.

There was an uproar. Morgana was immediately thrown off guard by the sudden screams and roars, threats of curse words, and hatred that erupted from the monsters.

"I'm gonna KILL you, General!"

"Are you kidding me? That's half of our vocabulary!"

"Sir, you wouldn't mind answering a few questions about what stupid things went through your head when you did this?"

Lecter dashed towards Morgana and locked his hand around her pale arm.

"What're you-"

"Time to leave, dear," he said.

He ducked under a swing from the Tracker and the Privates each whipped out handguns, yelling at the General to come play with them. Freddy was shouting something with a 'told-you-so' expression. All of the monsters were suddenly chasing them as Lecter dragged Morgana back down the decorated, red-carpeted hallway that the Privates always disappeared down.

"How dare you-" Morgana shouted, recoiling from his grasp. Hannibal knocked a vase off of a table onto the floor, slamming a button on the table's surface.

Just as the army reached the wide, open doorway that led to the hallway, there was a sound like a rushing waterfall. A vibrant purple sheet sprang up in the tall doorway, safely separating the General and Morgana from the angry mob.

Hannibal clenched and unclenched his fists, placing the vase carefully and precisely back onto the cabinet. Morgana paced back and forth before the field.

"How did you do that?"

He faced her and they stood before the forcefield together, ignoring the furious army.

"Captain Torrance and the Privates were highly offended when we did some renovations to this place. They believed it to be none of my business. The Grady Privates, there they are, are the snobby little ghost girls who think they're better than everyone else," he said.

"Ghosts?" Morgana asked. She was eying the General as if he were one of her failed assassins.

"Oh yes. This hotel is brutally haunted. Two-hundred-fifty ghosts, I believe. But we've never found it a problem," the General said, flexing his fingers behind his back.

He was trying to keep smiling despite the embarrassing fact that he was only an inch taller than Morgana. She was glowering at him with loathing.

"I don't trust you," she snarled. "Why bring me back to life? Only for the use of my powers? To prove something else?"

"It's alright, nobody trusts me. That's why I'm in charge. They're all frightened of me,"

"I am having a difficult time seeing why," Morgana spat.

"I'm a cannibal,"

"Oh,"

"'Oh' is right,"

"But you have no powers. Unlike me,"

Hannibal held up his hands. "My lady, let me tell you something. I have great respect for you and I have not resurrected you strictly based upon your abilities. If I only needed your abilities, I would've kidnapped one of the Avengers or the Justice League,"

"What is that?" Morgana snapped. "Stop speaking nonsense."

"According to the Lieutenant, speaking nonsense is all I do. And, just as my Lieutenant said, I will explain everything to you. I have the perfect plan to get what I want, what they want-" He gestured to the angry mob. "and what you want."

Scoffing, Morgana turned away, folding her arms. "How would you know what I want?" she snapped. "You plucked me from my home and dropped me in the middle of a world I do not know!"

"You should be grateful," the General hissed. "I've brought you back to help you take what's rightfully yours: the throne of Camelot. I brought you back from a dark nothingness."

"You told me Camelot fell! That is the second of your lies that I will use against you!" Morgana yelled, spinning on him. "And yes, I know you don't believe in magic! I see that expression every time you speak of it! I have nothing to be grateful for! There was nothing that you saved me from!"

The General looked at the ceiling and exhaled before he returned to the conversation.

"Before you decide to kill me too quickly, I want you come with me,"

"Where?"

"To have a drink,"

"A drink?! I've been dead for a thousand years and you offer me a- a drink?"

"Yes. There's nothing better than alcohol after being totally and completely owned by your protagonist," Hannibal turned back to the mob and then yelled at them- "Which, UNLIKE YOU, I've NEVER HAD TO SUFFER THROUGH!"

He began to walk down the hallway and Morgana hesitantly walked beside him.

"You have no idea what you've done," Morgana snarled.

"I'm starting," Lecter snarled. "to agree with you. But I know a thing or two about resurrections and meddling with the effects of time."

Morgana said nothing and looked around the hallway as if she had stepped on an alien planet.

"Where do you buy drinks?"

"Room 237. We turned it into a fully automated bar and the Privates still call for my blood,"

"Is it haunted?"

"Oh heavily. Most haunted room in this building, I believe. But it sells alcohol so that's all that matters. You know, there is a really nice bar back the other way with a karaoke machine but that way is blocked by an angry mob-"

"I have experience with ghosts. I raised an army from the dead,"

They stopped in front of the elevators.

The psychiatrist gave her a smile. "That sounds wonderful,"

"But I'll have you know," Morgana sneered. "When I kill you after we've worked, and I take what you think you will have, I will never resurrect you."

"I like you, Morgana. Here's my philosophy: I never kill anyone if they have something I can use. When you stop being useful, I can't promise I won't send you back to wherever you were,"

Morgana laughed coldly and loudly. "Another lie I will cease to believe,"

The General turned to the elevator and pressed his thumb against the up button. There was a ringing sound and a green light. The elevator on the left opened and Morgana jumped backwards. Laughing, Hannibal entered the elevator.

"Oh relax. That's not nearly as bad if someone unauthorized without an accepted finger print clicks that button," he said.

"Come on. Wine isn't cheap and the souls get aggravated."

Cautiously, Morgana entered the elevator with him.

"Oh my gosh,"

Everyone in the lobby of the BOO stopped yelling at the hallway the General and High Priestess had escaped down and turned.

A gawky teenager in a Pizza Hut delivery uniform, holding three large boxes of pizza, was standing on the stairways overlooking the entire scene.

"This is the second weirdest pizza party I've ever seen," he breathed.

"How the hell did you get in here?" the Lieutenant yelled.

"I dunno. The door opened when I spoke," the delivery guy shrugged.

Krueger shot a dirty look at the Twins who put on fake innocent faces.

"Hey, can I get a tip? You guys just forced me to walk halfway up a freezing cold mountain ankle deep snow. How'd you guys make a portal all the way to Colorado? That's like some Stargate stuff."

The Lieutenant pushed through the crowd and marched up the stairs, standing over the delivery kid, who stared at the lobby with an open mouth.

"This is a really nice hotel. You guys got vacancy? Cuz, like, I do not wanna walk down that mountain again. It sucked,"

"What's your name, kid?" the Lieutenant asked.

"Uh- Mark," the delivery guy stammered.

"Listen, Mark. You seem like a good kid, so I'm just gonna say this once,"

His clawed hand grasped Mark's shirt and lifted him onto his tiptoes. Mark's breathing became shallow and distorted with fear. Krueger put his burned nose almost directly onto Mark's and very slowly, very quietly, he whispered-

"This hotel sucks. It has rats and asbestos so I suggest you leave as fast a possible and never ask to stay here again,"

"I dunno, man, it looks pretty snazzy for a place with asbestos," Mark said in a monotone, still looking into Krueger's wild, yellow eyes.

"It has asbestos, okay?!" the Lieutenant yelled, shaking Mark. He set the delivery guy back on his feet and took the pizzas from him. "Just go. Okay, Mark? Go home."

"Do you guys have a bathroom?"

"Go home, Mark!"

Mark jumped back around the corner and he was gone. The Lieutenant turned and faced the monsters. He pointed at Jack's astounded face.

"I'm still mad at you, by the way!" he cried. "Next time that kid shows up, I'm not pulling the asbestos thing, okay? I'm still mad! Now, all of you, go back to whatever time-wasting crap you were doing."

"That's our pizza!" the Privates chorused angrily.

"Nope. Not anymore. I'm confiscating it until you learn to be decent people which means I'm keeping it forever," The Lieutenant tipped his fedora's brim and bowed sarcastically.

"Goodnight, morons."

Then, he spun on his heel and stormed from the lobby and away from view.


	7. Impossible Missions

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE PROPERTIES USED

Gwen had no idea what terminal she had walked into when she finally found other people. The new terminal she had arrived in via escalator had a large front wall covered in glass windows and doors separated by red ribbon. A large bulletin board for the Daily Planet sat in the middle of the room over a bench. The terminal was packed with people of all kinds, sobbing, panicking, holding their loved ones. There were black-suited guards and Starfleet officers everywhere.

Gwen felt a rush of anxiety as she hit the bottom of the escalator and remembered she was holding a large knife.

"Excuse me- sorry- I'm really sorry-" She made her way through the rough crowd in the direction of the doors. She held the knife as close to her legs as possible to hide it from view. She was craning her neck as if she would find Snape but she realized he could be long gone.

"Their car managed to escape. A red Plymouth Fury," one guard whispered to another as Gwen passed by. "The General and the others are far from gone."

"They'll be back. They were caught in the act before they did any real damage," the other said.

Gwen could see the doors in her reach but they were strictly guarded and here she was, wanted by Starfleet, wielding a large kitchen knife. At least Hannibal and the others were gone. But, of course, they escaped. Hannibal Lecter always escaped. Just one more reason for her to be scared out of her mind.

She was still shaking from the encounter with Jason. She was never going to get over that.

She got in line for one of the doors on the left of the bulletin board, trying to keep her head down, still scanning the crowd for Snape. It was impulse, doing so. She really wanted to talk with him, desperate to know how he knew about the Upside-Down- and she was even more desperate to know how he had survived his brutal and bloody death that was heavily censored for the movie.

But he had Apparated and now he, like Hannibal, was long gone.

Two Starfleet guards at the doorway neared closer as the line moved up. It just occurred to Gwen that she didn't have a plan this time.

Maybe all she had to do was tell them what had happened between her and Jason. Maybe she should just hand herself in. That was probably the best option. She had hurt one of them, after all. Then, from there, she could ask for a phone call. Did Starfleet give phone calls? Would they have better phones than hers and be able to contact her universe?

The ridge-nosed Bajoran mother and her daughter in front of the girl hurried through the doors just as the Starfleet guards turned on Gwen. She opened her mouth to speak but a hand clapped on her shoulder. She looked up and saw a bald, round-nosed African-American man in sunglasses with a suit standing above her.

"You don't mind if I take this one?" he asked the two Starfleet officers. "Don't worry, I'm with the FBI and I think I've found her mother."

The Starfleet officers exchanged glances before nodding.

The man led Gwen away from the guards and the doors. She clutched her knife, her hand shaking.

"I'm not with the FBI," he whispered to her.

"I- I couldn't tell,"

"That's the idea,"

The man led Gwen, hand firm on her shoulder, through more crowds to a separate set of doors that more people were trying to squeeze into. The man cut through the crowd like scissors through paper, attracting many stares but apparently unbothered by any of them. Gwen _was_ bothered, however. There was a ball in her throat that she couldn't swallow.

One thing was for certain, though. Wherever this guy was taking her, it could not have been worse than being in the same room as Hannibal Lecter and Freddy Krueger.

The man led Gwen past two more Starfleet guards and outside of the airport (which Gwen had learned was called Charactia Center from the signs she passed by while running from her doom).

They were somewhere along the side of the Center instead of the area Gwen had entered through. The sun had nearly set and there was a chilly breeze from the dark sky.

A long row of black vans were parked nearly bumper to bumper in the street before them. The black vans were all parked behind and in front of a long, black, stretch limo.

Gwen's mouth dropped open.

"Are we going in that?!"

"You're smart. That's gonna come in handy for you," the man said.

They approached the limo and Gwen felt a burst of excitement. She had never ridden in a limo before.

The man took his hand off Gwen's shoulder and approached the limo door, holding it open. He extended a hand.

"I'll take your knife, you won't be needing it,"

Gwen looked at her knife and timidly gave it to the man. She hesitated before ducking into the limo and was taken off guard in an instant. Not only did the limo look exactly like every limo she had ever seen in a movie ever (a long bench on both sides complete with bars and a small television) but there were also three other people inside.

And she recognized all three of them.

Ethan Hunt, with a bloody nose and bruised face, sat in the farthest corner on the left accompanied by a man with large glasses, a ginger hair and goatee, and a thick computer on his lap. On the right sat a man with heavy-lidded blue eyes, brown hair swept to the side, and a grey suit.

Gwen choked, staring at the three 'Mission: Impossible' agents, who stared at her in return. The heavy-lidded agent patted the seat next to him.

"Go on, kid, he's safe," Ethan reassured, massaging his shoulder with an ice pack. Gwen was at a loss for words as she moved to the seat gestured for her.

"I- I know,"

The seats were so leather and plush that she sunk down into them when she sat next to Agent Brandt. She couldn't stop looking at him, her mouth wouldn't close for some reason.

The man who had led Gwen to the limo sidled his large body into the limo and sat at the very end away from the others. He pulled off his sunglasses and Gwen gasped, as she recognized him as yet another 'Mission: Impossible' character.

She stared from one IMF agent to the next with a dumbfounded expression, finding it difficult to even begin to fathom the situation she was in.

She was acting like a complete idiot but honestly, she expected nothing better from herself. The limo door was slammed shut and it began to move but she couldn't see anything, as all of the windows were darkened.

The heavy-lidded man who looked exactly like Jeremy Renner turned to her and held out a hand.

"Hello. Agent-"

"Brandt," Gwen finished, taking his hand and hoping he didn't notice how sweaty it was. "Yeah- I- I know."

Agent Brandt exchanged a wide-eyed look with the ginger man across from him. The ginger man moved forward in his seat and pointed at himself.

"Do you know my name?" he asked in a light British accent.

Gwen nodded, trembling.

"Y-Yeah. You're Benji Dunn. I'm- I'm a huge fan,"

Benji Dunn, who looked like a carbon copy of Simon Pegg, reached across the limo with a hand and Gwen took it, shaking like a leaf. He gave Ethan an impressed smile and nodded.

"She's good, mate," he whispered. Ethan elbowed him and the pointed to the guard at the other end of the limo.

"Alright. Who's he then?" he asked.

"Oh!" Gwen said, staring at Benji while wearing a goofy smile she hadn't noticed until Ethan had spoken. "That's Luther. I forget his last name..."

"Stickell," Luther said with a smile.

"Heh- Yeah. Stickell. I remember now,"

"Impressive," Ethan nodded to Gwen. "Impressive. Well, men, this is the kid who made her way up to the cafeteria to see who was firing shots and got spotted by Hannibal Lecter-"

"Okay, okay! I get it! It was stupid!" Gwen cried. "I own it! I was on my way down before I realized Hannibal was standing on that table!"

"Which one was Lecter?" Ethan tested.

"The one who looked like that IMF agent who gave you the mission against the German-virus," Gwen said quickly. Ethan waved a hand with a dismissive face.

"You just heard me say that to him,"

"No! I already knew about that and let me tell you- that was NOT a former IMF agent!" Gwen exclaimed.

"So you know Hannibal Lecter?" Benji asked. Gwen felt herself soften at hearing him speak.

Why did she have to get interrogated with her favourite 'Mission: Impossible' characters in the room? She was finding it easier to accept that these fictional characters and the more people mentioned Hannibal, she was finding it easier to understand that he was there too.

"Yeah. He's a pretty famous Character back home,"

"He's not a Character," Ethan argued. "Characters are significant people who have helped shaped the reality of this universe and no one had ever heard of him until two years ago. We still don't know much about him. About any of them."

"I'm telling you, they're Characters!" Gwen said. "Maybe you've never heard of Hannibal because the FBI hushed him up."

"The FBI claims they don't know anything about him," Ethan stated firmly. "Believe me, we've asked. Many, many, many times. They've checked every databank and file they have on the most dangerous criminals of the world and they've got no record of him. Nor any family members."

"He's got a rather uncommon name," Benji shrugged.

"I have a theory that's not even his real name," Gwen whispered. Sitting back in her chair, she folded her arms. "That's weird. There's no way the FBI doesn't know him."

"Well, it's true," Ethan said. "So. How about the others? What do you know about them?"

"Not a lot but-" Gwen paused. "Hang on. I thought you didn't believe that I was an All-Knower! Now you've got me under custody and you're interrogating me? Come on! I am the only All-Knower you're going to find! How'd you even track me down?"

"Camera contact lenses," Ethan pointed at his eyes. "Takes pictures when I blink. I used a special computer to send the pictures of you to Benji who uploaded them and sent them to Luther."

"We were targeting Lecter and the monsters. We haven't been able to get good photos of them yet. Then you showed up." Benji added.

"Wicked," Gwen breathed. "I feel pretty special to have the IMF spying on me."

Ethan crossed his arms. "I would've thought an All-Knower would know how I managed to track you,"

Gwen scowled. "Hey, come on! That's not fair! I haven't seen all of your movies yet and I bet there's these little technical things I don't know about! Also, there's a new movie coming out so-"

"Movies? What're you talking about?" Benji asked.

"She mentioned this before. Claims that she's seen movies about the IMF and our adventures," Ethan explained. "Look, kid, if you really want us to believe you're an All-Knower-"

"Okay," Gwen sat up straight and felt a hot surge of anger.

"First of all, my name is Gwen. Second of all, I knew all of your names and I knew who Hannibal was! Third, there ARE movies about you guys! In my universe, you guys aren't even real! You don't exist! There is no IMF or Syndicate or anything like that! In my universe, you guys...aren't...real..."

She had drifted off because she was realizing what she was saying. So did Ethan.

"Not...real?" he whispered hoarsely.

"We aren't real?" Benji asked. "There's no IMF?"

"We're fiction," Brandt said. He slumped in his seat and put his hands over his face, breathing hard. "Explain- I'm having a hard time processing...life at this moment,"

Gwen inhaled deeply. "You guys are called Characters because you exist as fictional characters in my universe. You were...invented for film and television. You were...written on pages, given dialogue, played by actors. The way you guys look? Those are other actors pretending to be you and..."

She felt a ball in her throat and paused.

"I'm telling the truth," she said. "I'm really sorry but- but that's how it is in the other universe. In MY universe. Anyone considered a character here or an alien, they don't exist in my world. We invented you guys. That's how we "know all". We watch the movies and sometimes dedicate time to studying your worlds. But we don't really know all because we haven't seen all of the movies. It's really hard to process I bet but-"

All of the men had their faces buried or were staring at themselves as if they may blink away any second.

"But hey! Listen! Just because you were made up in my world doesn't mean you aren't real!" Gwen cried. "You're sitting here, after all! See- Look- Luther grabbed my shoulder! I shook Benji's hand! You guys are real!"

There was silence between all of them and Gwen leaned back down in her seat. Ethan exhaled with puffed cheeks and extended a finger.

"Until we get to the NYC base, you are to remain silent. Understand? You are officially in the custody of the IMF until further notice and your mission, should you choose to accept it-"

A very unflattering and high-pitched giggle came out of Gwen's mouth and they all looked at her with startled expressions. She gave the exact same expressions as they did, just realizing that the noise had come from HER.

"Oh gosh- Oh geez- That was- Sorry- It's just...you said the line,"

"Is to stay silent until further notice," Ethan finished firmly and

Gwen nodded quickly and attentively.

The awkward and uncomfortable silence in the limo only lasted for about five minutes when the cabin suddenly jerked forward and back, almost throwing them out of their seats.

Brandt pulled out his gun and moved towards the dark window that separated them and the cockpit, knocking on it.

"Hey! What's going on out there?"

The window rolled down and Gwen rushed next to Brandt, Ethan squeezing in on her right, their cheeks squashed together. Gwen usually would've lost her mind about her current position but she was too focused on what was happening before her.

The driver was pointing at a battered and beaten red Plymouth Fury that was swerving down the street in front of them, in between the lanes, causing the cars ahead to back into one another and honk their horns. It was difficult to see because of the protective black van in front, but Gwen could see the car swerving of the left and right smoothly and perfectly.

"Oh gosh," she breathed shakily. "That's him, isn't it? That's Hannibal."

"Yeah, it's him. He must've gotten us trapped here on purpose, we can't get out and stop him. Damn, he's a good driver," Brandt growled. "How'd you know it was him?"

"The car he's driving- it's- um- I think it's sentient,"

Everyone stared at her. Gwen raised her hands.

"Hey, look! You asked!"

They all retreated back into their seats and the window rolled back up. The awkward silence returned and Gwen folded her arms, looking at her lap. The evil and mad look on Hannibal's face when he had seen her was burned into her brain and she spent the rest of the journey gulping back her tears.

The IMF headquarters in New York City had never been recorded in any of the films Gwen had seen. The limo and escort cars had parked in front of the towering, ninety-degree glass building that was fortified with thick cement walls around the base.

Luther held the door open for Gwen, Ethan, Benji, and Brandt and they were instantly surrounded by guards with loaded guns. Gwen wasn't able to see the top of the building through the clouds. She readjusted her bandanna as they made their way up the concrete stairs.

"Isn't it dangerous?" she asked. "Having a base right here in the middle of New York?"

Ethan wasn't speaking to her, obviously still sceptical about her claims. She knew he was frustrated by Hannibal and the monsters but couldn't he be a bit more relaxed with her? He was professional but she was sixteen. Mind you, the situation she was in was more suitable for Ethan's age.

"Everyone thinks we're CIA," Benji whispered to answer her. "The rest of us have been working in this base since Lecter and his crew started showing up. Sometimes we pretend that we're an insurance company but that goes out the window when people start calling us about loans."

Gwen laughed out loud and felt a little better. Benji really was the perfect ice-breaker and she felt lighter simply walking next to him.

The guards escorting them held open a set of glass doors in the protective cement wall and the group entered the building. Gwen desperately wanted to take pictures but she knew doing so would end in a confiscation of her phone and most likely a fine.

The lobby was enormous and silver with a black circle bearing the IMF logo was spread across the floor. Immediately, there were tall white body scanners lengthwise of the room and desks accompanying each of them. Beyond the scanners and desks were a set of two escalators leading to the next floor that sat between two hallways. There were suited agents and spies scattered everywhere, all deep in their own discussions.

Ethan walked next to Gwen and leaned over her a little.

"You're gonna need to remove your backpack,"

"Oh! Yeah, of course!"

They approached the scanners and each took to a separate one. Ethan whispered some fast dialogue to the female guard at Gwen's scanner before he removed all of his weapons onto the conveyer belt. Gwen did the same with her phone. She looked at the guard who nodded and pointed at the white archway. She only stepped in once Ethan had also stepped in. She watched him from the corner of her eye and did exactly what he did.

She stood motionless in the archway and held her arms out. There was a bleeping noise and then she turned and face the other way, only after Ethan had done so. Then, there was another bleeping noise. She turned back again and jumped as a white board snapped out from the left of the arch and in front of her face.

"Look at the green dot, please," the guard ordered as she pressed a few buttons.

Gwen watched the green dot on the board directly before her face and she was temporarily blinded by a flash of green light. The board slid back into the archway.

Ethan stepped out of the archway on the other side, as did

Gwen.

"I need you to unlock your phone," the guard said, holding out Gwen's phone.

Timidly, knowing exactly what the purpose was, Gwen pressed her right index finger on the circle at the bottom of the phone and it unlocked. She stood, red-faced, as the guard scanned through all of Gwen's contacts. Then, she went into Gwen's photos and videos.

It went well for a while until the guard paused. She frowned and gave Gwen a suspicious look. Then, the guard turned to Ethan and hissed something to him. She showed Ethan the phone and was scrolling across it to show him several pictures and videos. Ethan took the phone, hissed back, and nodded, pocketing it.

Gwen swallowed, her body stiff. The guard handed the backpack to its owner and Ethan crossed over to her, grasping her arm.

The others finished being scanned and followed as Ethan led Gwen towards the escalators.

"Hey, I'm gonna get my phone back, right? It's new and I just discovered you can save gifs and I'll need to contact my parents!" she protested.

Ethan said nothing as the group loaded onto the up escalator on the right. Several agents smiled and nodded to Ethan and the others. Gwen glanced over her shoulder at Benji who, unlike the others, saluted the agents and winked at Gwen. She laughed quietly.

They reached the next floor and Ethan led Gwen down another hallway riddled with elevators. The end of the hall had a set of glass doors but they turned to the left and into an elevator. The entire trip upwards was silent and awkward.

Gwen wasn't sure how to exactly process anything. She stood in the elevator with Ethan Hunt's hand on her shoulder, Benji Dunn on her right, Luther Stcikell behind her and William Brandt on her right.

She was being arrested by four famous Impossible Mission Force agents that she had always believed were fiction who were attempting to catch iconic horror movie characters. Who didn't realize they were fiction at all. Half of her brain was focused the unbelievable situation of being inside IMF headquarters and the other half was focused on the fact that Severus Snape was still out there somewhere.

She didn't want to think too much about Hannibal or the others. She didn't want to think about them at all.

The elevator ride finished and the door opened up into a long floor with desks, cubicles, and cluttered with IMF agents. You couldn't see all of windows as separate offices lined some of the back and side walls.

Ethan led Gwen across the desk-riddled floor to a back office with windows shaded with blinds. Before Gwen could take in the entirety of the floor, she was shoved into a door of the back office and thrown a foot in front.

She stumbled and looked around. The office clearly belonged to some high ranking IMF official, the walls held photographs of award celebrations, medals sat in a filing cabinet, and a thin bespectacled man was in a photo shaking hands with the Charactian President.

There was a perfectly organized desk in front of the back wall where Gwen had been thrown and two chairs before it.

Ethan and the others entered the office and slammed the door. The other three stood against the door and checked for agents as Ethan whipped out Gwen's phone, shoving it under her nose.

"Explain," he snapped. "And make it good."

She looked down at her phone and a gif of Ethan in 'Mission: Impossible', descending into the Black Vault, was playing over and over. She couldn't find words. Her mouth had gone very dry.

"That's...you,"

"Yeah, I got that," Ethan groaned. "But how'd you get it? Come on. How you get this picture?"

"Well..." Gwen had no idea how to explain it. "It's a gif, first of all."

Ethan looked furious and a little afraid. Gulping, Gwen looked back down at the gif of the younger Ethan Hunt. Somehow, it looked fictional now. The man in the gif was Tom Cruise pretending to be Ethan Hunt. The real Ethan Hunt stood a foot away.

"Remember how I told you that, in my universe, you're a fictional character? Well, that's a clip from your first movie. See? I'm telling the truth! You guys are movies in my world and...I just realized that your ballet skills on that harness are absolutely beautiful." Gwen breathed off topic. "Wow. You're really Ethan Hunt. You're- you're awesome- I mean-"

"So you're an All-Knower. You really are," Ethan interrupted.

"Yes. I am," Gwen stated. "But can we go back to talking about that Vault scene? How'd you breathe so quietly? Like, that's amazing and how-"

He ignored her and turned to the others nodding. They nodded in return and Benji gave a supportive exhale and thumbs up to Gwen, who looked away as she blushed. Ethan scrolled to the right on Gwen's phone and showed another gif of he and Benji in a BMW car.

"Also from one of our...movies?"

Gwen shook her head 'yes' with another gulp. Ethan showed the phone to Benji who went into a trance with shock. Sighing, Ethan went back to Gwen and scrolled a few more times and held the phone in portrait view, then flipping it to show Gwen.

She felt her heart nearly stop.

The video she had taken of Snape closing the Upside-Down was playing before her.

"What's this?"

Her mouth moved to form words but none came out. She had to lie. She had to lie to a fully trained secret-agent who was a master at lying. She stammered once before she came up with something.

"That- That is a VR video game that I recorded because I thought it looked really cool," she invented wildly. She was relieved to see that Snape's face was not in the shot. However, Ethan looked unconvinced.

"You're a terrible liar. Trust me, I would know,"

"Yeah, I know. Listen, it's really complicated but-"

"Let me guess. You can't tell me?"

Gwen sighed. "No. I can't,"

She wouldn't mind telling Ethan about the Upside-Down. It was a threat and it looked like it was resurfacing since the 80s. But she wasn't about to go on Snape's back and tell Ethan about the Wizarding World, especially since they had the Statute of Secrecy that prevented them from telling Muggles unless absolutely necessary.

"You've been arrested by federal agents," Brandt added. "You don't have much of a choice."

"Fine!" Gwen groaned. Her brain worked fast and she bounced on her tiptoes. "Look, the portal thing- It leads to...another dimension. Another dimension...within THIS dimension. Within Charactia."

"No, it's not a Future. It's called the Upside-Down and it's an eerie mess of goo,"

"And who's your friend?" Brandt asked, pointing at Snape in the video.

"Oh. He's...one of the X-Men!" Gwen said quickly with a smile. "Yeah! He was a teacher at the X-Mansi- I mean, Xavier's Academy for the Gifted!"

"A prep school?" Brandt inquired. "A weird guy with powers works at a prep school?"

"Yeah! All of the teachers call themselves X-Men. It's kinda their thing. He's the chemistry teacher and he briefly joined the Avengers but he was too dark and creepy for them, so he joined the Justice League. But he and Batman were a big no-no," Gwen had nearly forgotten the whole 'mutant' controversy existed here in Charactia. And Snape _was_ a Potions teacher so her lie about him being a chemistry teacher wasn't so far off.

"What's his name?" Ethan demanded.

There was a sinking feeling in Gwen's stomach when she realized Brandt was writing all of this down in a notepad he had pulled from his suit.

"Alan Rickman!" she blurted quickly. They stared at her and she sighed. "Yeah. Professor Alan Sydney Patrick Rickman."

She prided herself on knowing the actor's full name.

"Those are some alien abilities, right there," Luther observed, coming over to watch the video. "Is he...from this...Upside-Down?"

"No. In fact, I didn't even realize he could...do that," Gwen admitted honestly. She didn't realize either Snape or Alan Rickman could even exist in the first place, so using magic to close a portal didn't seem like much. "I don't know where he's from exactly. We don't talk often."

Ethan bit his bottom lip and gave a knowing look to Brandt.

"And what about this?"

He scrolled to a picture of several text messages between Gwen and her best friend, Ryan. He had sent her a picture of his result on "Which 'Silence of the Lambs' Character Are You?" which happened to be Hannibal Lecter. She made fun of him a lot because of it.

"You have a picture of him,"

"I don't look at it often," Gwen shrugged. "It was just a game but I guess now..."

Ethan pocketed the phone and he group retreated away from Gwen. Ethan beckoned them into a mock sports huddle, their backs to her. She didn't know wether or not to feel offended that they were scheming about her, in front of her. They broke the huddle and all of them except for Ethan exited. He faced her.

"I need you to stay here. You're lucky Agent Hunley's here, I'm going to brief with him about you helping us with the impossible mission of catching Hannibal Lecter and his comrades. Remember, you are to stay here. Got it?"

Gwen agreed with a silent nod. Ethan gave her a quick but awkward smile and exited the room, closing the door and locking it from the outside.

She moved around the desk, pulled off her backpack, and sunk in its black leather chair. She didn't know how much she could help the IMF. She had never seen a horror movie. All the information she received was through random conversations with her friend, the detailed spoilers her mom sometimes gave her, and the images she'd seen on cinema Instagram pages.

She wished her mom was here. She'd be able to spill all the dirt on Hannibal and his stupid cronies.

She was so tired, she didn't want to focus on horror movies at the moment. Her anxiety disorder was already at its major peak. She tilted her head back in the large leather chair and closed her eyes, focusing on the fact that Severus Snape was out there.

And Jason Vorhees was scared of him.

The sudden hard knocking on the office door shook her awake. The lights in the office were still on but the window outside was dark. Gwen rubbed her eyes, tasting that sour feeling in her mouth that told her she had napped. It took her a moment to process that she was in another dimension but she mumbled the words- "Snape real, Ethan real, Hannibal asshole," and was all caught up. The door knocked even harder.

Gwen rubbed the indent on her face from the leather chair where she had laid it. Rising to her feet groggily, she moved towards the door.

"It's locked," she called in a low voice.

BANG. Gwen screamed and flew backwards, racing behind the desk. She grasped the chair and swung it in front of her as the door blasted open and off of its hinges. She shrunk behind the chair and saw a large dent in the wooden door's front. Like a punch had just been thrown at it.

She couldn't believe her eyes when the knocker walked into the office, cringing at the dented door where they had punched it.

She rose from behind the chair slowly, her knees feeling like jelly. In this moment, she was even more torn about whether or not this universe was a blessing or curse.

A young woman with wavy blonde hair, a dark red skirt with high matching boots, a blue long-sleeved shirt lined with red, a gold triangular belt, black tights, and a flowing red cape had entered the office. Gwen stared directly at the iconic 'S' logo on her chest.

"Oh gosh," Supergirl breathed, biting her lip. "Ethan's gonna kill me when he finds out I did this- Anyway. I was dropping in and he sent me up here to get-"

She froze when she saw Gwen, who was also frozen.

"Oh. Hi, you must be-"

"Gwen," She raced out from behind the chair, extending a hand. "You're Supergirl! I can't believe it- I'm a huge fan, you have no idea-"

"Thanks," Supergirl responded with a chuckle. The girl squealed through her teeth when the cousin of Superman shook her hand. She shook hands with Benji Dunn, William Brandt, Rorschach, _and_ Supergirl. In _one day_.

Gwen couldn't wipe the grin from her face. "Wow. You are so pretty, you don't even know. I- I saw your cousin today! Superman!"

"Oh did you?" Supergirl asked, also smiling.

"Yeah! Man, I get why people like him. He is SO good looking. You two are the ultimate tag-team. Actually, no, that's not true. I LOVED it when you teamed up with Martian Manhunter. I really like him too! You know, it was SO cool when you lifted ALL of Fort Rozz into space. That was AMAZING!" Gwen gushed. She realized that she was still shaking Supergirl's hand and let go awkwardly.

"Um, thanks. But, uh, how'd you know about that?" Supergirl asked, still smiling but in a slightly confused way. Gwen's eyes went wide and she finally stopped smiling.

"Uh- Oh- well, um- Hey, you said Ethan sent you up here?" Gwendolyn changed the subject rapidly and Supergirl nodded, her grin fading exponentially.

"Yeah, follow me. They've been having a meeting about that former IMF agent for two hours now. It's getting pretty heated," she explained. She waved a hand and spun on her heel, striding from the office.

Gwen took a second to bounce around and squeal into her hands before she followed Supergirl out of the office.

'And now I will follow Supergirl through the IMF to join in a debate with Ethan Hunt,' she narrated through her head, watching Supergirl's back in awe.

"Hey, maybe afterwards, could I have a picture?" she called quickly as they walked back to the elevators. "You know, for...fan-time's sake."

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Supergirl chuckled.

Gwen jogged next to her as Supergirl pressed the down button on the elevator and it dinged.

They entered together and so did two other female agents in pantsuits, both preoccupied with a phone and a file-folded. Supergirl and Gwen stood at the back in a corner.

"Man," Gwen whispered, knowing excitedly that she could talk as quietly as she wanted and Kara Zor-El would still be able to hear her. "I didn't realize you were friends with Ethan Hunt."

"Oh, we're colleagues. Not friends. But I'm trying to move up on the ladder and so is he. He's a pretty social guy when you come down to it,"

"Yeah, I know. He's pretty good a magic tricks too,"

"Really? I didn't know that. I'll have to ask him about it,"

"So do I, now that I think about it," Gwen sighed. She knew her situation was serious but it would be terrific to see some classic Ethan Hunt prestidigitation.

"So, what's a girl your age doing in a place like this?" Supergirl chuckled. "Is your parent an agent?"

"Heh, actually it's a pretty funny story-" Gwen said quietly.

The elevator dinged again and one agent stepped out before they went on their way again.

"Yeah?" Supergirl egged on.

Gwen felt flattered and afraid that the Woman of Steel sounded so desperate to hear HER story. It had always been the other way around.

She licked her lips and had a new anxiety that they were going to crack. She hated having cracked lips.

"Well, um, I have some...information. On...him,"

"Him?"

"You know. HIM,"

"Wait, which him?

Gwen rolled her eyes and lowered her voice to the core of the Earth. "Hannibal Lecter,"

"Wait- You _know_ him?!"

"We've met..."

"Gosh," Supergirl gasped. "How'd you escape?" She was also keeping her voice low, as the red-haired agent was obviously listening intently.

"Um, well, I ran and then his goon chased me and I'll never sleep again," Gwen muttered. "But then this OTHER goon was like- 'Nah, she's just a kid' which I hear is really ironic for him."

"So you have information on him? You?! How'd you get information on him?"

"Oh trust me," Gwen mumbled grimly. "Where I come from, he and his buddies practically have their own wiki page."

Another ding. The final agent stepped out and the elevator continued.

"So what do you know?" Supergirl pressed on.

"Not as much as Ethan thinks. But lemme tell you this, he's got no special powers so you could whip his psycho little-ass into submission," Gwen snarled. Then, she realized something she hadn't before.

"Maybe he does have special powers."

Supergirl frowned. "What makes you say that?"

Gwen couldn't figure out a way to say it out loud. "Well, he looks the exact same way he did in the 90s. Like, he didn't age at all. So either he's a great makeup artist, he has a Philosopher's Stone, OR he's an alien." She snapped her fingers. "I'm going with alien. You know, I bet he's an alien!"

The alien in the elevator laughed.

"What? I'm serious! No one looks THAT GOOD at seventy,"

"You have the exact same theory as my friend. He saw those guys on the news and claimed they were ALL aliens,"

"Oh-hoh," Gwen chuckled. "Yeah, I know who you mean."

"What?"

Ding. The elevator doors slid open and Supergirl shook herself, gesturing to the hallway outside. Gwen stepped from the elevator first but Supergirl took the stride in front.

If Hannibal was an alien, this meant he wasn't a cannibal. This was Gwen's new theory. At this moment, she didn't care if it was probably untrue.

Supergirl and Gwen had come back out into the hallway of elevators that Ethan had guided her into. They made their way down the blue-grey hall to where the escalators were, Supergirl leading the way with her bright red cape flying behind her.

They rode down the left escalator back to the wide-open lobby with the scanners but once they hit the bottom, Supergirl made a turn to the right hallway beyond the escalators. Gwen timidly stepped off the still-moving steps and bounded after the Kryptonian.

She was finding it difficult to even begin to believe that she was standing behind an actual superhero with _super powers_. Supergirl! People cosplayed as her! People wore t-shirts with her on it! She had her own TV show!

The new hallway that they were striding down had dark wooden walls with no pictures or doors. Bar-lights stretched across the ceiling and the smooth floor reflected fuzzy colourful images of them.

They made their way to a double door of the same dark wood the walls were made from. There was a symbol upon them with the American eagle and White House shield, but Gwen wasn't sure what it actually meant. Was the CIA attached to this building? Was that the logo for the CIA? This wasn't something she thought she'd ever have to worry about.

There were two heavily armed guards with sunglasses, bullet-proof jackets, machine guns, and ear pieces. Gwen felt her body shrink. She had never seen real machine guns before.

They looked just like the ones in 'Die Hard'. Except way scarier. Kara held her hands up and smiled, stopping before the doors.

"Don't worry, guys, Ethan sent me to get her. You know who I am,"

The guards exchanged blank expressions but waved their hands for the two women to enter.

"Alright," the right one said.

Supergirl grinned back at Gwen who gave a grimace. She really didn't feel like smiling with the two serious Terminator lookalikes guarding the door. Tiptoeing towards the door, Supergirl cracked it open slowly and stuck her head in. Gwen crawled underneath, sticking her head in beneath the heroine's.

The council room looked just like the one in 'Mission Impossible: Rouge Nation'. Only the very end was lit with yellow lights, there walls and pews all a dark wood. The CIA, FBI, White House, and IMF logos were on the very back wall behind the round desk that looked like the bench in a courthouse. The bench was full of suited officials, only one being one whom Gwen recognized.

All of the officials were staring down at Ethan, who stood beneath them, with intense frustration. Benji, Luther, and Brandt were all seated in the dark pews looking uncomfortable. Ethan was in a heated argument (just as Supergirl stated) with the only official Gwen recognized: grey haired, Alec Baldwin-faced Agent Alan Hunley, who at this moment, was the Secretary for the entire IMF.

"We came down here to watch your actions of catching Lecter red-handed, Hunt!" Hunley was yelling. "You tracked him to the Center over several months only to let him get away!"

"There something about him, I've told you a hundred times! It's like escaping authority was written into his DNA!" Ethan snapped. "With all due respect, Secretary, you need to focus on what I am telling you now and not what was I was telling you an hour ago! We now have more information on Lecter and all of his comrades! I was tracking him using his license plate and previous IMF persona. Since we found an All-Knower, a REAL one, she can give us the information we can't seem to find."

A suited woman on the bench squinted directly at the back and Gwen locked eye contact. The woman pointed at her with a furrowed brow. "Is that her back there?"

Supergirl pushed the door open uncomfortably and waved with an awkward grin.

"Hey, guys, I brought her down. Sorry, hope you don't mind. Come on, it's okay,"

Gwen straightened up and timidly tiptoed down the middle aisle after Supegirl, arms stiffly by her sides. She waved as well and grinned but it was still caught in the middle of a grimace. Several suits wrinkled their noses and Hunley crossed his arms.

"This," he said.

"Yes,"

To Gwen's surprise, Ethan sounded defensive. He smiled at Supergirl who sat down in a front pew. She gave Gwen thumbs-up which made her feel slightly braver. She stood next to Ethan and tried not to look Hunley or the others in the eye.

"This is a child," Hunley laughed with a cruel smirk.

"Hey, I'm sixteen!" Gwen cried. She had forgotten how much she disliked Hunley. She hadn't met a character since the horror monsters she disliked and now she was facing another.

"There is no way this child is going to help us catch a wanted rogue agent," Hunley snapped at her. "So, whatever kind of joke this is? Please, Hunt. You lost Lecter, don't make us waste our time any further."

An idea sprung into Gwen's head and she tilted it to the side, folding her arms. She smirked and stared directly into the spiteful agent's eyes, afraid but unwilling to show it.

"See, Hunley?" she called. "This is why you're no longer the director of the CIA! And you thought the Syndicate wasn't a big deal!"

There was a dead silence and Ethan elbowed Gwen with a small approving smile that only she could see. She smiled back. It felt really nice to have him not glowering at her as if she were some kind of terrorist.

Looking behind her, she saw that Supergirl's jaw had dropped wide. She mouthed the words- "All-Knower?" over and over again.

"Very funny, Hunt," Hunley said shakily. He was speaking through his teeth. "You can't just tell her something and expect her to-"

"Ethan didn't tell me anything except for the fact that he wants information on Lecter. I have SOME information on him and his buddies. And I can start by saying that Lecter is NOT a former IMF agent! He never gave that mission to Ethan ," Gwen started confidently. "Look, Hunley, I know you don't believe me but Ethan's a really good agent. Remember how he managed to hang onto that plane WHILE it was in midair but then Benji kept screwing up and opening the wrong doors?"

"I screwed up rather bad!" Benji called.

"Yeah, see? And Ethan STILL accomplished that impossible mission! So if a rogue agent can avoid you guys for..."

"Two years," Ethan whispered.

"Holy crap, you've been tracking the jerk for TWO YEARS?" Gwen cried. "Well, if he was a rogue agent, you guys would still be able to track him and you can't so that would mean that he's not a rogue agent, right?"

The bench agents all began to whisper at one another with blank faces but wide-eyes. Hunley wasn't speaking to any of them, rather examining Gwen with a calculating look she liked better on Snape. Ethan leaned down and hissed-

"You had to bring up the plane incident, didn't you?"

"Sorry," Gwen chuckled. "It was the first scene I ever saw from a 'Mission: Impossible' movie. Actually, I started watching them so I could get your character on 'Lego: Dimensions'- Look, it was pretty funny. I laughed."

"It was funny for you. You weren't the one on the plane,"

"So you claim to be an All-Knower," Hunley sneered. "Alright then. I'd like to ask you a question and I'd like a straight and clear answer. Ethan Hunt was married."

"Yeah, I knew that," Gwen said with a shrug.

"Good, good. So what' was his wife's name and where does she live?"

The question took Gwen off guard for a second and she furrowed he'd brow once her brain focused on it. "Wait- Wait- That's not fair I mean- I haven't seen that movie yet,"

"What are you talking about?" a woman asked politely.

Gwen opened her mouth to speak but Ethan cleared his throat, stepping forward.

"Ma'm, this may come as a shock to you... And it is still a bit of a shock for me... But in Gwen's universe we...don't exist,"

"Don't exist?" a man exclaimed. The bench had suddenly become restless and some of them had moved forward in their seats. "What do you mean 'don't exist'?"

"Well, according to Gwen, in HER dimension, the IMF and everyone involved with the IMF aren't real. We were created as characters in movies, TV shows, books, video games and then appeared here. We're played by actors and all of our battles and feats are...nonexistent," Ethan explained with a swallow halfway through.

The ten people on the bench began to whisper to one another frantically.

"What- What about Starfleet?" Hunley asked. Gwen was half pleased to see that he looked convinced. "The Justice League? S.H.I.E.L.D?"

Gwen shook her head.

"That's why I can't answer that question. There are five 'Mission: Impossible' movies, the movies depicting Ethan Hunt's adventures from the moment Jim Phelps betrayed him, and a TV series of the same name series Jim's life before hand. I've never seen the television series and I've only seen the first and last of Ethan's adventures," she said.

She refrained from alerting them about Ethan's next adventure. It was difficult, as she wondered if she could stop the escape of Solomon Lane, who was causing problems in the new trailer. It was best not to risk it, however.

"And...how many movies and shows of Charactia have you seen?" a man asked, hands folded on the bench desk.

"A lot. I know about the Nakatomi Plaza in 1988, almost the entire Dominion War except the ending, and I read about the Hunger Games. I also know about the War of 1995 and the fall of Jurassic World. And a lot more," Gwen sighed. "But if these movies only exist in my dimension, you guys must have a whole new slew of movies in THIS dimension, right? That'd be cool! Can I-"

"And you've seen Lecter's movie?" Hunley interrupted coldly.

"Uh, no. You see, like any normal movies, they have...ratings. And the movie he's most well known for, 'Silence of the Lambs', I supposed to be super duper scary. I mean, REALLY scary. It won an Oscar. No, scratch that, it won four. Maybe five. It won an Oscar in all of the major categories."

"Oscars? You have Oscars in your dimension?" Supergirl spoke up. She looked horrified at the idea that the comics that existed in her world were invented by someone else, yet intrigued at the idea.

"In my world, the awards go to the best actors, actresses, soundtracks, directors, pictures, and makeup artists of the films. It's like the Super Bowl for nerds!" Gwen told her. She looked back at the bench. "Is it like that in this world too?"

"Yes, but does that mean our movies and stories exist in _your_ world?" a woman asked.

"I don't think so. That would mean there's magic in my dimension,"

"Magic doesn't exist," Ethan whispered. Gwen craned her neck back slightly.

"Um, what?"

"So you _haven't_ seen Lecter's movie?" Hunley pressed on, waving a hand, clearly getting bored with the conversation.

Gwen balled her fists. It was obvious he was only into speaking with her for information and not about the marvelling idea that there was another dimension where he was pure fiction.

"No, I haven't," Gwen snapped. "And to be honest, I don't know if I ever will. Anxiety's a pain."

"Then how can you help us?

"Because my best friend saw it and he talks. A lot. He watched the movie and that was all he talked about at a party my other friend had the next day for about three hours. Also, you can look explicitly state on Google Images that you wanna see pictures of Anthony Hopkins from 'Transformers' and STILL get information about the psycho. It's not hard," She paused. "And I got a book on how to write a screenplay and the guy who wrote it put in a crap-ton of stuff about that movie. So, I know quite a bit about the film. The ending and characters and stuff. But I've...never actually...seen it."

"It's an impossible mission trying to catch him," Hunley said. "You'd better have something good."

"Well, seeing as this IS the Impossible Mission Force and not the frigging FBI-" Gwen groaned. A man cleared his throat with a scowl and Gwen gritted her teeth. "Sorry, sorry."

"We have no record of Hannibal Lecter," the FBI agent barked. "We've looked a dozen times!"

"Who's the All-Knower here?" Ethan cried. "Come on, you want information and she has it! I suggest you listen to her! Check again if you have to!"

The bench agents contemplated for about a minute and those opposite to them waited patiently. The bench agents then proceeded to look to Agent Hunley, who finally rolled his eyes.

"Very well... Gwen. You may speak,"

"Uh-uh. You're calling me Ms MacMillan from now on," Gwen said quickly with a sly grin.

She'd spent the fifth 'Mission: Impossible' movie hating Alan Hunley and now he was relying on her for information. Hunley buried his face in his hands as the agents whipped out notepads and pens.

"Fine. Ms MacMillan," he spat.

"First of all, the FBI should do research on an agent called Clarice...Starling! Yeah, that was it. She was assigned to Hannibal Lecter to get the dirt on a separate serial killer. That's the plot of the movie. Anyway, IF Hannibal Lecter is real and I'm still doubtful-"

"Why would you be doubtful?" Ethan asked curiously.

"Because he looks the exact same he did in the 90s!" Gwen said. "Little weird, don't you think? Anyway, he used to be a really acclaimed psychiatrist. Like, he had a DOCTRINE, man. Super classy, classy music, classy clothes, classy art-"

"So what happened?" the FBI agent asked.

"Well," Gwen was hesitant to say it out loud. Just saying it was an anxiety trigger. "Turned out he was stooping to...velociraptor level. He's-" She was finding it difficult to say,

mostly because she refused to admit it was true.

He's an alien. Just think about that. There's always an explanation. Maybe it's Polyjuice Potion?

"He's a...c..aaaannnibal..." She muffled her voice and coughed at the end.

"He's a WHAT?" Hunley yelled. The bench agents all shouted in shock.

"Woah, woah, he's a cannibal?!" Ethan shouted. "We are in DEEP!"

"Wait- Wait! Maybe, MAYBE, I'm wrong! Maybe they're just urban myths, right? I mean, the FBI couldn't track him down so- so who knows maybe-" Gwen cried, holding her hands up.

"Track him DOWN!" Ethan yelled at the FBI agent who nodded shakily.

Hunley sunk in his chair and Gwen burst into tears of horror. She hated seeing everyone else freak out. It made her feel really sick.

"The problem is, he and is friends are supposed to be on the same level as Norman Bates!" she cried against the will to vomit, her breath coming in short gasps, her body shaking.

"And you guys were supposed to have had a Revocation of those guys! Well, Not Hannibal's buddies- yeah, I'm calling him that until I see further proof- are running around out there despite the fact that apparently they were Revoked from existence! So explain that!"

"One thing at a time," Hunley cried, holding up his palm. "You- Gwen- Sorry, Ms MacMillan! You are to give us as much information about Lecter's comrades as you know? Understand?"

Swallowing and clutching her arms, Gwen whispered- "Yes,"

So Ethan pulled up a chair from a defendant desk and she sat down, telling them everything she knew about the other four she had seen, including detailed descriptions of what they looked like and the history of their films. How Jason was undead, drowned, and had far too many sequels. How Krueger was also undead, existed travel in dreams, and targeted a...particular audience in murder. She barely knew anything about "The Ring" except for TV travel of course (she didn't even know the creature's name) and the only thing she knew about Michael Myers was the fact that he wore a mask that looked like William Shatner and that he attacked Jamie Lee Curtis. But she couldn't give the names of any of their main characters except for Nancy from 'Elm Street' and she didn't even know that girl's last name.

"It's just, well, I have this anxiety disorder and pretty strict parents, so I've never...been allowed to watch horror movies anyway," Gwen said, looking at her hands. "So that's all I know."

"Know anything about the car they drive and how they keep disappearing?" Ethan asked kindly.

"Well, since you laughed at me because I said it might be alive-"

"Alive? Like a Herbie?" a female CIA agent asked.

"Yeah, but evil," Gwen said. "I know a bit about Stephen King. My mom and friend are pretty big fans of him. I mean... Hey, do you guys have anything on the Torrances?"

"Hmm? What? How do you spell that?" another FBI agent asked.

"T-O-R-R-A-N-C-E. They were told to take care of a hotel and it turned about to be really haunted. The Overlook Hotel which had killer ghosts but killer furniture designs. Back in the 80s. Anyway, I don't exactly know how the movie ends but you should research that. See if that hellhole is still standing. Which, it shouldn't be, because of the Revocation, which may or may not have been legit," Gwen ended her spiel with a scowl at Hunley, who raised his hands.

"What did I do, huh? Why're you looking at me?"

"Because you're one of those denial guys who hides important stuff from his superiors. It was how you got kicked off the CIA and it's why you're acting really calm about this whole thing," Gwen growled. "Let's talk about Norman Bates, for starters. Hmm? What really happened to him?"

The bench agents exchanged nervous eyebrows and Ethan was the first to speak. Most likely because no one else looked willing to do the job.

"He was...banished,"

"He's not dead?" Gwen exclaimed. "You didn't kill him?"

"Again with the killing, kid! You can't just kill people, alright? Look, he had a place in a mental asylum but it just got too much. There was a signed paper that Aslan of Narnia gave out among world leaders to show that he was going to make sure the fiascos he had created would never happen again. Then, Aslan sent him and his motel away to somewhere no one would ever find or release him," Ethan explained, hanging his head.

"The President told me he died of his mental illness years ago!" Supergirl cried, rising to her feet. "You lied to the Justice League! You lied to the WORLD!"

"Believe me, that's one secret I've hated keeping," Ethan hissed, his eyes sliding over to where Hunley sat.

"Banished? Alright, where did he go? Where did Aslan send him?" Gwen demanded.

"That's the part we don't know," Brandt said from the pews. "Aslan refused to tell anyone where he sent Norman Bates and his motel, other than the fact that it was place people have difficulty finding and difficulty leaving."

"Oh yeah? What if Aslan banished the rest of them there and now they've gotten out?! How many horror characters are out there? What kind of damage do you think they're doing now that they've come from wherever they were?" Gwen yelled.

"They only appeared two years ago," Ethan said. "But then they disappeared off the grid for about four months. They only came back about a week ago. We thought we were rid of them. Mind you, we weren't sure who they were or even where they came from. This is the fourth time they appeared in the past two weeks and I managed to track their license plate from their disappearance point. Which is five hours away down the main freeway."

"Yet another impossible mission to track them down," Benji groaned.

"Then it's like Gwen said! It's a good thing 'impossible mission' is in your organization name, isn't it?" Supergirl cried. "First thing you guys are going to do is contact that President and tell her to tell everyone else the truth: Norman Bates is alive. Lying to Charactia and strictly disobeying Aslan in doing so? Bad news. Don't make that face, Hunley,"

"I agree with Supergirl," Ethan said, raising his arm in the air. "We need to alert everyone."

"They'll all panic!" one bench agent cried.

"Good, that means they'll understand the situation," Ethan said simply. "Second, you guys need to go over the information Gwen gave us about Lecter and his buddies. Get on that stat."

"It'll take about two days. We can send it Dunn," a CIA agent observed.

"Two days?! I can't wait two days to see if I'll be brutally murdered!" Gwen wailed. She went rigid as Ethan grabbed her arms.

"Listen, they don't know about you or your universe. It'll be okay. We want you back here on Saturday morning, nine AM, to get your information. Sound good, Benji? Can you do that?"

"Definitely. I can start right now, if you'd like," Benji and the FBI agent rose to their feet and exited the briefing room together.

"Perfect. Supergirl, you and Hunley should contact the President and tell her to tell everyone about Bates," Ethan continued.

"You can't order me around like I'm your child, Hunt!" Hunley retorted. "I'm the secretary of this organization, not you! We will not be telling anyone about Norman Bates, understand? Mass hysteria is not what we want right now. Until we have a better understanding about these new horror characters, Bates is going on hold."

"You can't do that!" Supergirl argued.

"Actually, I can," Hunley sneered. "Norman Bates is dead until further notice."

"See, this is exactly why I hated you in 'Rogue Nation'!" Gwen said with a bitter scowl.

"Lecter is a disavowed, rogue agent! We have to focus on him first!"

"No he ISN'T!" The desperation in Gwen's voice spilled out and raced towards the bench. Gwen jumped to her feet. "For the last time, that was just a guy who looks exactly LIKE Hannibal! You need to tell everyone that Norman Bates is alive!"

Hunley rose to his feet and pointed down at Gwen. "YOU gave us the information we wanted! YOU are dismissed!"

"But-"

"Dismissed!"

Gwen and Hunley stood glowering at one another, breathing hard through their noses. At this moment, Gwen wished that he would trip and fall out of the bench and hard on his head, hopefully fall unconscious for a day or two. Unfortunately, this didn't happen. She opened her mouth to argue once more but Supergirl grasped her arm.

"Come on, Gwen. We don't need to stay with these punks anymore,"

As Supergirl led Gwen from the briefing room, Ethan gave them both a sorry expression shared with Brandt and Luther. The agents on the bench had nothing sorry in their eyes as they raised their chins at Gwendolyn.

She glared and stuck out her tongue as she left the room.

Childish and stupid.

But then again, so was Hunley.

Supergirl and Gwen sat on the floor cross-legged outside the briefing room.

"That went..."

"Really, really crappy," Gwen finished bitterly.

The other laughed quietly, playing with her cape. "Yeah. Pretty much," She looked up shyly.

"You're really an All-Knower then?"

Gwen nodded quietly.

"That's amazing,"

"It's okay. I mean, even All-Knowers have their limits. Mine just happens to be the sheer amount of knowledge about horror movies I don't have. I wish my mom was here. She knows a lot about horror movies and stuff. She's probably freaking out,"

"She doesn't know you're here?"

"No. I don't even know if she'd believe me if I told her where I went,"

"How'd you even get here in the first place?"

"Wrong bus,"

"You got on a Multi-Bus? Those stop in the All-Knower universe?" Supergirl hissed.

"Yeah, but I don't think they know. Who even cares? I can't worry about the logistics of my universe versus yours when there are horror movie characters out there," Gwen sighed.

The two were quiet for a moment.

"So..." Supergirl said. "I have movies in your universe?"

"One. And a television show. You're pretty underrated in my opinion," Gwen said. "Personally, I like you a lot better than Superman, and not just because you're a woman. You just feel more...real than Superman. Which is funny because I've seen both of you in reality now."

There was a smile on Supergirl's face which looked to Gwen like the smile you made after figuring out a difficult puzzle. "So you know my secret identity, my history, my family, my friends, everything?"

"In your TV show, yeah. I've never read your comics. I read a few of the 'Justice League' comics, all of the new 'Ms Marvel' comics, and almost all of the 'Gwenpool' comics. But that's how knew which friend guessed that the horror characters might be extra-terrestrials. I figured out that it was Winn because I watch your show," Gwen explained.

"That's a...little scary," Supergirl admitted. "But it's interesting."

She patted Gwen's shoulder and finally managed a little smile out of the All-Knower.

The door to the briefing room opened and Ethan walked out with a face of frustration, annoyance, and exasperation. Gwen and Supergirl rose to their feet.

"Anything new?" Kara asked urgently.

"Nothing except them all agreeing that keeping Norman Bates' existence a secret is 'best for everyone'," Ethan groaned, sticking his hands in his pockets.

He pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and reluctantly stuck them on his face. Supergirl put a hand over her mouth, muffling laughter.

"Hey, stop laughing. My camera contacts ran out of battery and I left my normal ones in my apartment," Ethan moaned. "Anyway, none of them are budging on the Bates ordeal. I think we should be lucky they even listened to Gwen about the horror movie characters. From what Lecter told me in the food court, and what Gwen told Hunley, I'm starting to agree with her. There's no way that Lecter was an IMF agent. He looks like the missions director but it seems to me that he's too young."

"You noticed that too? What about the robbery at the food court? Why do you think Hannibal stole all that ice cream? He doesn't strike me as an ice-cream-kind-of-dude," Gwen asked.

"I'm going to call up the Dairy Queen at Charactia Center, see exactly what was stolen. If he is a cannibal like you said, I can only imagine why he'd steal food related items. But it looked to me like it was a team-heist. Now,"

Ethan folded his arms and made eye contact with Gwen. She fought a smile. One of the reasons she liked Ethan was how he was the only action-hero she could name who wore glasses.

"What is it that you want at this moment? You're important to us so, I was wondering if you needed anything."

"I need Hannibal dead," Gwen spit out. "He's less than human to me."

Both Ethan and Supergirl looked at her. Ethan adjusted his glasses and licked his top lip.

"Until we can manage apprehending Hannibal, what would you like NEXT?"

Gwen pushed her backpack straps up her arms and looked into space. "I wanna go home,"

"The All-Knower world,"

"Yup,"

"Makes sense. It's already midnight," Ethan sighed, glancing at his watch.

"She says she came on a Multi-Bus. Apparently, it somehow travels to her world without even knowing it," Supergirl explained. "Do you remember what the bus looked like?"

"It had an old Jurassic World banner on it," Gwen told them. "I think...I think it was driven by a Vulcan."

"Those busses run twenty-four-seven," Ethan informed.

"There's a bus stop down in the Bronx that's specific for them, I think. Supergirl, maybe you could take her down to one. You know where they all are. It's about fifteen minutes away."

Supergirl nudged Gwen playfully. Ethan started rummaging around in his black jacket and while doing so, he asked Gwen bashfully-

"Hey this, uh, might sound like a- uh- vain question but, um, in the All-Knower universe," He started digging his hands into his pockets roughly. "Do people like me?"

"You mean, as a character? Well, I think a lot of people think you're kinda bland. Just another Tom Cruise action hero who does a crap-ton of stunts," Gwen explained quietly.

"Oh,"

"But- But! I don't! I think you're a computer nerd with muscles. In your first adventure, you barely even beat anyone up and the only stunt you really did was a train chase. I think you're intelligent, brave, and just a dude doing his job the best he can," She paused. "While also getting disavowed a crap ton. But it's okay because you always get disavowed and then do the right thing at the end. Also, you're awesome at prestidigitation and I really wish people would focus more on that."

Ethan stopped searching his pockets and dropped his hands to the side. His cheeks has turned a bit pink. "Thanks. Speaking of which...'

He reached behind Gwen's ear and when he retracted his hand, he was holding a white ticket with a bar code and IMF logo. Gwen actually squealed and covered her mouth.

"That was awesome,"

"I'm rusty but thank you for mentioning it," Ethan laughed. "Now, look. This is my card of approval for all bus, taxi, and plane rides. Keep it on your person and use it to get on a bus tonight and on a bus Saturday morning. Remember, they run all the time but you really should get on one as quickly as possible. I'll want it back this Saturday and I'll get you your own. Alright?"

"What should I tell my parents?" Gwen asked with a creased brow.

"The truth but if they don't believe you, tell them you're going to a friend's house. Work is always a great excuse. Only if they don't believe you. I think it's important for two parents to know where their sixteen-year-old is. I'll see you Saturday?"

"If I'm not grounded. I still have a biology test to study for,"

"There are serial killers on the loose who have seen your face and you're worried about a biology test?" Kara chuckled.

"Hey, I can't help it. Worrying is kinda my thing,"

"Biology is very important," Ethan added on. "I respect her worry."

"This is why I like you, Ethan,"

He clapped his hands together. "Right. Saturday. I wanna see you back here at nine in the morning, got that?"

The two shook hands and Gwen blushed. "One more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I have a picture with you guys?"

New York City was gorgeous at night. As Gwen and Supergirl strode down the dark yet busy sidewalks, Gwendolyn snapped even more photos of the sparkling towers and neon signs (Ethan had returned her phone and had strictly taken it so that he could show Hunley photos of their movies, but Hunley had denied.).

The breeze was cool and comfortable, and part of Gwen felt as though she was already on summer vacation. She walked as closely to Supergirl as possible, keeping her eyes peeled for any familiar serial killers on the streets.

She found herself talking quite an extensible amount to the superhero, asking her dozens of questions that stretched all the way from- "What's your favourite colour? Is it actually blue or is it something random?" to "I know you're a reporter so were you good at English in school? I like English the best."

It took them some time to walk down the streets and cross the roads, as Supergirl stopped with about thirty different people to take pictures and sign autographs. Gwen stood off to the side often and felt incredibly awkward as this ensued. Mainly because she felt no different from some of these weirdos that they met on the street.

She expressed her concern and Supergirl told her not to worry.

"You've spent your life not even knowing I exist. You have a better reason to be excited,"

By the time Supergirl and Gwen had reached the outskirts of the main city, Gwen had learned that several new things about Kara Zor-El including the fact that the hero's favourite colour was actually pink and she did enjoy English on Earth school. Even though she was better at art on Krypton.

She also realized that she had to use the bathroom. Luckily, the street that made way to the Bronx had one side riddled with pizza and pastry shops, all with glowing signs.

Supergirl and Gwen entered a pizza place for Gwen to use the bathroom, but Kara ended walking out with a free slice of pepperoni pizza, which she gave to Gwen. The latter hadn't had any supper.

Last Christmas, Gwen had been to the Bronx before. She recognized the street they were on. Behind them was a chasm filled with traffic that led into a tunnel. It separated the street Supergirl and Gwen stood on from another street with tall brick apartments and colourful awnings.

A glass bus-stop with fluorescent lights like the one back in Gwen's dimension of Halifax sat down the sidewalk from them facing the rows of shops. It was surprisingly empty for a New York bus-stop. Sitting herself down in the bus-stop, ticket safely in her raincoat pocket, Gwen started at her pizza.

"Think you're good from here? Three stops away, remember?" Supergirl said.

"Yeah," Gwen said through a full mouth.

"Thanks for everything, seriously."

Apparently, Supergirl noticed the girl's stiff form and frequent glances as passing aliens and people. "Look, they're long gone for now. Who even knows what they're doing,"

"I don't want to know," Gwen whispered.

Supergirl touched her shoulder and backed out of the bus-stop. "See you Saturday,"

"See you Saturday, Kara," Gwen mumbled with a forced smile. The smile was returned to her.

She watched as Supergirl bounded off down the dark sidewalk and leap into the air, soaring high into the night sky and out of sight.

Sighing, Gwen focused on the street across from her. Kara was right. How could she be worried about anything in her dimension while undead killers roamed the streets looking for their next victims? Who cared about a stupid biology test Hannibal Lecter was out there? She needed to tell her parents about today. Everything.

But what if they didn't believe her? What if they thought she had been doing drugs? Even if they did believe her, what if they contacted the police? What if they forbade her from ever returning to Charactia?

"You've basically got a new job," she muttered to herself. "Congratulations, Gwen. Welcome to the IMF."

She was tired and really just wanted to go home. Even if she couldn't get to sleep and was up the entire night explaining where she had gone to her parents, all she wanted was to go home. Where was this stupid bus? If she had to wait an hour for it, she was going to kill Ethan...

Her attention was immediately taken off the street. She spit out her pizza onto the sidewalk in shock as she was focused on another pizza shop directly across from her.

This shop had peeling letters and windows with sections made of plastic-wrap. Through the darkness, in all of that black, it was almost impossible to see him.

But Severus Snape was striding down the sidewalk towards the light pizza place and pushed the door open, entering inside.

Gwen bounded to her feet in an instant, leaving her pizza on the bench.

She remembered the bus. She looked down the road and bit her bottom lip, looked up and down the road, back at the pizza place. She thought long and hard about what Ethan had said about the multiverse buses always doing rounds around the clock.

She then thought long and hard about the crushing death of Alan Rickman.

She groaned through her teeth at the pizza place and felt an immediate weight of guilt.

"Sorry, Ethan,"

And with that, she took off down the sidewalk and across the crosswalk to the opposite street, directly in front of the pizza place Snape had entered. Heart pounding, hands shaking, she slowly pushed open the glass door and stepped inside as quietly as possible.


	8. Snape

I DO NOT OWN ANY PROPERTIES USED

Blood and some foul language used

It was disgusting. The interior of the pizza place smelled strongly of burnt garlic finger sauce, the floor was tiled a banana-yellow and stained with several bizarre colours. The red booths were also stained and their mouldy stuffing was falling out. There were peeling posters of sexually posed women on the walls and a small, cracked dial TV sat on a shelf on the left wall.

Thick cigarette smoke hung around the ceiling and it was empty except for one shady man in a fedora smoking in a booth.

The back bar was just as filthy; posters chipped off the wall, and the faded menus were flickering with a cheap gold light.

There was a young Latino man behind the counter with a white tank-top, a brown over-shirt, a shaved cut under his dark brown hair. He was quite handsome and looked like a nice fellow. He was wiping the counter (to Gwen, this seemed like a losing battle), singing something in Spanish to himself.

Snape was approaching the back counter and the young Latino man had not noticed him.

Gwen slowly crept down the aisle between the booths and tables (tables sat on the left, booths the right) behind Snape, her heart in her throat. Carefully, on her toes, she sunk into a table three down from the counter and pulled out her phone, pretending to look at it.

She tried not to sigh in awe as Snape drew himself up next to the counter. He really did have an impressive form, like a tall shadow. He was intimidating, dark, and his eyes penetrated all he looked at. She found herself staring at him, and blushed although no one had noticed.

The only question was: what was Snape doing in a run-down, clearly not-health-policy-approved pizza shop like this? It reeked of everything Muggle, something Snape desperately tried to distance himself from.

The shady man in the booth crumpled his cigarette and hid his face when he saw Snape. The man behind the counter looked up mid-song and froze.

"Severus!" the man cried, forcing a cringe-worthy smile onto his face. He straightened up quickly, smoothing his green apron, tossing the rag behind him. Gwen saw his hands trembling against the counter. "How- How very nice to see you! Wh-What can I- I do for you?"

Snape slammed a wad of bills on the counter and the man's eyes popped. Gwen's did as well. Those were exact same bills she had helped Snape take out of the ATM machine.

"Where did you- how did you-" the young man stammered.

"Where I got them does not matter," Snape whispered, obviously not wanting to be heard. "I would like an order of Number 5, to-go please. I would also like a copy of the entire week's newspapers from last Thursday."

The man blinked as if he had not heard the professor.

"Yes, of course, it's just- Man, I've never seen you with so much-"

"I want this done immediately, Carter," Snape hissed.

"But where did you-"

WHAM. Gwen, Carter, and the shady man at the booth all jumped at the same time. Snape had slammed his hand down on the counter in anger and it had echoed through the pizza place. Carter began to back up slowly against the wall with the pizza ovens, shaking. Snape looked very calm and that was not a good sign.

"May I remind you what happened to the last person who questioned my comings here?" he snarled. "You would not like to end up like your dear uncle, would you?"

Carter looked to the right, his hands wobbling violently. He was staring at a shelf under the image-fuzzy television. The shelf held a jar filled with swamp mush but, most obviously, a green speckled toad. It was croaking uproariously. Gwen's jaw dropped.

Carter swallowed a thick Adam's apple and moved back towards the counter.

"O-Of- of course not, sorry,"

"Sorry...?"

"Sir! I'm sorry, Mr Snape, sir,"

Gwen sunk in her chair and watched Snape quietly. He turned and looked past Gwen's head at the flickering news channel on the television as Carter rummaged around in the back to prepare the meal. There was a dull thunk as a heavy stack of newspapers were laid upon the counter. Snape did not look at them.

Gwen tried to turn away from Snape in her chair and glance over her shoulder at him. She knew perfectly well he could figure if she was there but he hadn't given any indication of knowing so.

She focused on the jar holding the toad.

Snape had used magic on a defenceless Muggle. That wasn't like him at all, especially since Snape was a large supporter of keeping the Wizarding World a secret. What was he doing, running around using magic on Muggles who pissed him off?

It just occurred to Gwen, as she looked over her shoulder, that Snape looked a tad too thin. He was described as being such but something wasn't right.

His black eyes were still fixated upon the television.

"Hey, Severus," Carter called, flipping a burger on a stove. "I'm sorry for saying this- but- um- well, some of my uncle's old c-clients are visiting in about- uh, about five minutes so- I'd say- it's not safe to be in here at that time. They're still looking for him and-"

"And what?" Snape asked, quite still.

"Will you ever turn my uncle back to the way he was?"

"I'm doing you uncle a favour," Snape whispered. "I will return him to his lethargic natural state when I see fit."

"My- My uncle was an honourable man," Carter said defensively, his voice shaking.

"Then why is he a toad?" Snape sneered, his lip curling.

"Listen," Carter spun around and pointed a stiff finger at Snape. "I don't know who you are or- or WHAT you are but-"

"Good. Then I've kept myself well,"

"Listen to me-"

"I'd rather not. You bore me,"

"I'm- I'm trying to p-protect you!"

Snape finally looked over his shoulder, slowly, his nose wrinkled. There was a flash of psychotic anger through his eyes and Carter shrunk back again. Gwen swallowed.

"Do I," he hissed. "seem like the kind of man who needs...protecting? Against YOUR kind?"

"With- with all d-due respect, sir," Carter stammered, his shoulders up by his ears. "My uncle's clients aren't exactly...my kind."

The two men stared at one another for a bit. It was as if Snape were made of stone- the way he barely breathed, never blinked, and held his brows to a rough crease. It was a glare that would've made anyone look away in an instant. But Gwen was captivated by the stare-down of the two.

Carter held on, shaking, sweating. He broke and turned around to fry onion rings.

Snape raised his chin, his face breaking slightly, turning back to the news feed. Gwen quickly looked away, ducking her face down. The shady man at his booth scrambled to his feet and started to rush towards the door, arms folded in a protective state.

"Goodbye, Leon," Snape called dully. The man broke into a run and pounded out of the diner.

Gwen looked from the door back to Snape, who fortunately was back to looking at Carter. "Are you finished yet?"

"Almost, almost," Carter muttered.

Watching him intently, Gwen was finding it easier every moment to process Snape was there. It filled her with an immense joy she was pushing down. She let a small smile creep onto her face and put her hood up to hide her face even further. But the smile faded quickly when Snape turned back to the TV and immediately began to cough violently.

Her eyes widened as Snape doubled over, coughing into his arm, his whole body shaking. It was then when Gwen decided she didn't like seeing him this way.

Carter said nothing as he packed up a large hamburger, a box of french-fries, a box of onion rings, and a coleslaw salad into a greasy white bag.

Snape continued to hack loudly, it made a horrible gurgling sound, and wiped his mouth and nose as he straightened, putting on a face as if he had not just been overcome by a loud coughing fit.

The seriousness of this suddenly came into light as Gwen looked down at Snape's right hand. On the back and palm from where he had wiped his mouth was dark, red, thick blood.

"Holy crap," she breathed, feeling her hands tremble.

"Here you go," Carter said, setting the bag on top of the newspaper stack. "Have- um- have a good night, sir, and if-"

"You've made me rather angry, Carter. You've never spoken so often to me," Snape hissed, glaring at him.

"I- I'm s-sorry,"

"Stop talking or you will join your uncle in his new habitat. I may have to stop coming here altogether if you continue to run that pathetic mouth of yours," Snape interrupted coldly.

He coughed into his hand again and shuddered. Carter looked ready to be sick when he saw the fresh blood on Snape's hand.

There was a thunk from the door closing and Carter, Snape, and Gwen all spun around.

She scrambled out of her chair and underneath the table to hide, trying to ignore the amount of gum on the table's underside. She had hidden the second she saw a pistol in one of the three men's pants.

The three men who had entered definitely looked like bad news. However, she was watching them in equal awe as she had while watching Snape.

The smallest one was a Ferengi. Short, bald, brown, with hairless eyebrows that stretched back into huge, round ears. His nose was a squashed and apricot-shaped and he wore a suit of vibrant rainbow colours.

The two aliens behind the Ferengi were both Twi'Lek males with long head-tails that curled around their neck and shoulders. Both wore ripped vests and tank-tops. The left one with the crowbar was orange and the right one with the gun was a magenta colour.

Gwen felt a healthy amount of fear as the men passed her by, but these men seemed like nothing compared to the horror villains. To her, it felt like these men were a sorry excuse for criminals after she had seen Hannibal Lecter.

"Uh-oh, Rosscal. Looks like someone got here before us," the magenta Twi'Lek snarled.

"It does, too," the Ferengi named Rosscal whistled as they approached the counter. Snape towered over the small alien man but the other two musclemen towered over everyone else. "Who's this, Carty? A friend of your uncle's?"

"He doesn't have any friends," Carter spoke up bravely, despite quivering very obviously. Snape nodded slowly, squinting and examining the three men. The toad in the jar croaked even louder.

The orange Twi'Lek forcefully shoved Snape to the side. Snape did nothing.

"He your new bodyguard?" Rosscal sneered. "Looks awfully proper for one,"

"He's just a customer here to get a decent meal," Carter muttered.

"Decent! Ha! As if!" Rosscal cackled. His voice was high, nasally, and it made Gwen cringe under the table. "You call this decent? I call it last week's disposal! This shop makes that one on Deep Space Nine look like Canto Bight!"

The goons laughed stupidly and Snape rolled his eyes. However, the orange Twi'Lek struck him hard in the stomach with his crowbar. Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth as Snape gasped and backed up even further, a look of fury on his face.

"You got a problem with that, buddy?" the magenta Twi'Lek barked.

Snape said nothing and Gwen saw his lips thinning.

Carter folded his arms to try stop himself from shaking.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but my uncle's still out of town-"

"Blah blah blah! Always out of town, always the excuse! Carty, babe, we want our orders not your grovelling!" Rosscal sneered. He shot a glare at Snape. "Hey, Max, why is this still in my face? Get out or be silenced."

"Allow me to take my order first, your majesty," Snape said sarcastically.

"Hey, boss!" the magenta Twi'Lek cackled. "This one's a Brit!" He put on an insulting British accent. "Carter called in a Queen's man to pour scalding tea on us!"

The three men broke into shrill laughter. Gwen noticed Snape's sallow face turning a dark red. Carter cleared his throat loudly, Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"I'm not making excuses. My-my uncle won't be b-back until next week, okay? You'll have to wait on orders until- until then. I can't- I can't fix it! I can't, okay?!" he cried.

Gwen watched the orange Twi'Lek pull a dagger from his back pocket. She curled her hands into fists. Snape exhaled loudly, drawing himself upwards.

"Well these petty problems are all very interesting but if you would please remove yourself from my path, I'll just take my things and-"

The orange Twi'Lek named Max swung his crowbar into Snape's stomach to prevent him from moving any closer to the counter. Snape groaned through his teeth and staggered. Max grinned a crooked smile down at him.

"Sorry, govnah," he teased. "But you'll hafta eat yer crumpets somewhere's else!"

The look on Snape's face as he clutched his stomach was rather terrifying. It remind Gwen of Eleven's stare from 'Stranger Things': a silent, dark-eyed scowl with his eyes tucked under his brows. Gwen wasn't sure why the three men were still laughing when this expression was in their midst.

She was also finding it difficult to believe that nobody had noticed her hiding under the table just yet.

The toad in the jar tried bounding up and down, the glass clinking against the shelf.

"Carter, babe," Rosscal said silkily, leaning an elbow upon the counter. "I'm already pissed off that you allowed an outsider to be in here during our little glee club. So unless you wanna walk your ass out another night, give us the snow."

"I- don't- make- it!" Carter cried, leaning over the to look the Ferengi deep in the eyes. "I'm not in that business!"

"I shoulda known," Rosscal sighed, raising his hands in the air. "No good deed goes unpunished. As always, the Rules of Acquisition are on top in our line of work. I should never 'ave given this dump to your uncle. Shoulda known the cheap was gonna skimp out on me-"

Carter looked like he had had enough. He stormed around the counter and Gwen would've laughed at the fact that he towered over Rosscal, except Rosscal's goons had dangerous weapons and she was within range.

Snape's eyes were reduced to slits as he watched Carter and Rosscal square each other up. Carter jabbed an index finger into the Ferengi's gold-buttoned front as he hissed-

"Another word about my uncle, you can have this dump back to yourself,"

In one swift move, the magenta Twi'Lek whipped out his blaster gun and pinned its barrel against the side of Carter's head. Gwen gasped and buried her mouth into her palms. It was a nice gun too, an SE-14C used in Mos Eisley Cantina.

Snape simply looked on with unfathomable features.

"You see what happens when you piss off the big-boys, Carter?" Rosscal said, grinning crooked teeth. "You've made Kal very angry."

Snape was still silent. Gwen watched from him to Carter, who had eyes that appeared as though he was begging Snape for help. She couldn't tell if Snape was going help or not.

Max had left Snape alone and all three of the thugs were focused on Carter.

"You know," Snape finally spoke up in a voice as dry as ever. "I will not say anything about this encounter. I have no one to say anything to."

The three men looked at him suspiciously. Carter was breathing heavily through his nose as the gun bore into the side of his head. Gwen held her breath.

"How can I trust you?" Rosscal whispered.

"You can't. But that's not a problem, as I trust no one in return,"

It took a moment for Rosscal to process the statement but when he did, he laughed heartily.

"I see we have something in common. I thought I could trust ol Carty here for my shipment but-"

"I- don't- make- it!" Carter hissed, sweating profusely. "P-Please, Rosscal- I'm not in that business- please-"

"Oh quit whining, Carter, you sound even more childish than when you usually talk," Snape snapped. Gwen's eyebrows traveled far up her forehead and Carter's eyes went large.

Turning back to Rosscal, Snape exhaled with an air of intense annoyance.

"Could I please go now?"

"Of course. Grab your things. Leave and don't look back or I may have to have a punishment for you just like little Carty here," Rosscal hissed.

Nodding curtly, Snape turned back to the counter and collected his newspapers and meal-bag into his arms. Carter began to stammer for him but Snape swept past the group and past Gwen's table.

That was where he made eye-contact with her.

Gwen turned to stone and they were fixated upon each other. However, Snape said nothing and didn't even visibly acknowledge that she was there. He moved to the door.

"Come on, Carty," Rosscal said with a sneer. "If you can't give us our orders, here's something you can do for us..."

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" Carter screamed at Snape, who had his hand on the door. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

They had pushed Carter to his knees to the floor, gun on head. Rosscal stepped aside for Max, who stripped off his belt and swung it in his hands.

Gwen looked wildly to Snape, who had stopped in his tracks.

"Keep going, Euro," Rosscal snarled. "Don't change my mind about you being the second-most honourable man in the room."

Max slapped the belt in his rough hands and approached the shivering Carter. Gwen turned away and looked at Snape, who slowly lowered his order on the table next to him, taking his hand off the door. She saw him mutter something to himself.

"Hey, are you listenin' to me?" Rosscal cried angrily. "Do- as- I- said!"

Max stood over Carter and raised the belt in a position to strike his victim hard. Gwen was panting and her heart was in her head. Snape did not turn around. He did not leave the pizza place. His hands clenched and he hissed something.

There was a high-pitched scream and Gwendolyn whipped round under the table to face the three men and Carter. The belt in Max's hand was shaking and thrashing around like an angry snake. Rosscal took several steps back and then, Gwen realized, the belt _was_ an angry snake.

Snape did not turn around and his shoulders had gone very rigid. He muttered something else and the snake in Max's hand, thrashing and hissing angrily, suddenly burst into flames.

The three men and Carter screamed shrilly and all four of them backed away. Max dropped the snake and it shrivelled onto the floor as he cradled his burned hand. Carter made a run for it. The three men were too terrified to notice.

Snape turned to face the three men, a nasty scowl on his face.

Carter slid underneath the table next to Gwen and looked at Snape. Then Gwen. Then Snape again. Then Gwen. He clutched the legs of a chair.

"You're a kid! How did you- what the-"

Gwen put a finger to her lips. The last thing she wanted was Rosscal and his goons to know that there was a sixteen-year-old girl within torture range.

Snape whipped out his wand and pointed it at Rosscal's face, striding towards him. The Ferengi had shrunken to the floor, against the counter wall.

Kal fired his blaster five times at Snape's head but the wizard flicked his wand against all of the blaster bolts, which were absorbed by some invisibles shield. Max made a lunge for Snape and swung his fists, aiming for the face.

Snape brought his wand around his head and it cracked like a whip, the Twi'Lek groaning out as he was thrown across the room and into a wall. He spun around and fired red bolts at Kal, who somehow managed to dodge them all.

Kal ducked under a slash of white light from Snape's wand and sprang up, striking Snape square in the nose. Staggering backwards, Snape clutched his face. There was another hard blow to his stomach from Kal but when the Twi'Lek aimed a kick at the vulnerable Snape's head, he was suddenly engulfed by a wall of bright bluebell flames. Kal screamed out in pain, grasping his face and falling onto the floor.

The flames thinned into a long chord that Snape swung over his head into a circle, his nose bleeding profusely. The chord slithered back into his wand and he pointed it back at Rosscal, his eyes mad.

Max bellowed out, racing at Snape with his crowbar raised over his head. Gwen watched in horror as Snape merely jerked his to the side and Max's right leg bent a way it shouldn't have. He shrieked and fell to the ground. Snape jerked his head again and Max's leg relocated itself. Gwen really wished she hadn't watched that. Bile creeped up into her mouth.

Carter didn't bother hiding his bile. He swung around his shoulder and vomited over behind the counter.

Snape strode towards Rosscal and stood over the cowering Ferengi, leering down his hooked nose.

"S-Sir," Rosscal whimpered with a pathetic smile. "W-We got off on the wrong foot. Buddy, babe, listen to me-"

"I'm sick of listening to you," Snape barked. "I think all who live reasonably are sick of listening to you. But..."

Rosscal gasped out and was dragged to his feet by invisible chords, hanging in midair. Snape's head was raised and Rosscal was choking. Suffocating. Being hung by magic.

Horrified, Gwen looked away, burying her face in her hands. Snape didn't kill people! That was absolutely against his nature! Why was he doing this?

"No! Stop! STOP!"

Peering through her fingers, Gwen saw Carter scramble out from under the table and race to Snape's side.

"I don't want him killed- Stop it- STOP IT!"

Rosscal continued to gag and his face was turning blue. Snape looked down at Carter. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head, showing only whites.

"You crazy, crazy, crazy, son of a-"

SMACK.

With one quick strike across the face from Carter, Snape's entire body shook violently and he closed his eyes. Upon opening them, Gwen saw that his black pupils had returned.

Cold sweat beaded on Snape's forehead and Rosscal dropped to the floor, coughing.

Either than the coughing of Rosscal and the quiet whimpering of the goons, the store was quiet. Timidly, Gwen lowered her hands.

"What are you?" Carter hissed.

Snape had a look on his face Gwen had only seen once before. It was the exact same terrified, confused face he had in 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' when Harry had come running down the castle hill to confront the Potions Master- The Potions Master who had just murdered a man he had not wanted to murder.

Eyes darting around from victim to victim, Snape swept past Carter abruptly. As he passed Gwen's table, he flicked his wand. Crawling to the other side of her table, Gwen saw that the jar with the toad inside had fallen to the floor, shattering across the stained floor.

However, in one blink of her eye, it was not a toad but rather a portly Latino man with a moustache and an identical green apron Carter had.

"Uncle Terrance!" Carter yelled, racing to his relative's aid.

"Be honest with me, Carter," Terrance said, shaking his head and standing. "Did that man really turn me into an actual toad for two straight weeks?"

Snape was collecting his things and quickly pushed the door open with his back before exiting the store. In an instant, Gwen crawled out from under the table and stood up so everyone could see her.

"There was a little girl here the whole time?" Rosscal coughed out on his hands and knees. "What the hell?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Carter!" Terrance moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Man, Snape sure owned you," Gwen chuckled to herself, looking at Rosscal. She looked around at Carter and Terrance, who were mesmerized by her for being able to hide for so long.

"You know," Gwen told them quietly. "No one's ever gonna

believe you about the whole toad thing."

"Oh yeah? Why not?" Terrance asked defensively.

"Because that's Asgard stuff and I think Asgard went up in smoke,"

She didn't want to waste anymore time and waved awkwardly, taking off and booting from the store.

There were two cop cars with blaring lights parked outside in the dark street and somehow, she managed to bolt down the sidewalk away from them.

Snape had not gotten very far and she stayed a fair distance so that she could follow him without him knowing. He was easy to spot through the dark, surprisingly enough, because of the stack of white objects in his arms.

Gwen followed Professor Snape down every sidewalk, every back alley dripping with cold water, across every crosswalk he did. He was leading her into the very heart of the Bronx, underneath the clacking green train bridge where shops sold live chickens and apartment buildings filled every corner they could.

Snape was navigating the Bronx as if he had lived here his entire life. Gwen was almost grateful that he was making her walk this long distance, as she was allowed to see all of the shops that had windows packed to the literal brim with things.

However, the fatigue was just starting to get to her as Snape, several people away and still no idea he was being tailed, made his way back to the upper part of the Bronx. She had seen a digital clock in a window and it was now two in the morning.

Now _this_ was one of the two sections Gwen remembered from the Bronx back home, as the buildings were towering and covered in objects. Watches, jewelry, party supplies, phone cases. This was the more high-end shopping section of the Bronx, no longer shielded by the green train rails.

They were walking along the dark gardens, the stars shining in the indigo star like a gentle blankets of sparkles. Gwen wasn't sure if she was going to get home tonight but it was worth this view. New York City at night was a whole new vision.

Just then, Snape made a quick cross over the road by lazily raising a hand and several cars stopped for him. Across the street was an old brick apartment building that had graffiti that looked like "Super Mario" blocks and mushrooms across a side wall and a rickety fire-escape.

Gwen balled her fists and refused to have Snape escape her. Praying under her breath, she stood at the edge of the sidewalk and held up a hand.

However, only three taxis stopped for her. She took in a deep breath and pounded onto the street. Gwen screamed as the taxi in the lane behind her started and the cars in front of her were still going. She was now in the center of the road.

A van was coming straight for her but several cars in front of her had stopped. She took off down the street again and another car stopped beyond that one, finally hit the sidewalk and faced the the old apartment building.

Without hesitation, she made her way under the long dark-green tattered awning and into the rotating door.

The lobby of the apartment building was small and lit with golden lights. It was about the size of Gwen's living room back home. A middle-aged woman with curlers in her silver hair and a black cat in her lap sat smoking at an old desk on the right. A set of rickety wooden stairs filled half of the room.

With slow movements on her toes, Gwen crept over to where the woman sat. She tried to breathe through a tiny gap of her mouth, careful not to breathe in the woman's smoke.

"Excuse me,"

The woman looked down from having her gaze on a fly swarmed lamp.

"Yeah?"

"Um... Does a Professor Severus Snape live here?"

The woman coughed on her own smoke and her eyes watered as she squinted over the desk at Gwen.

"Snape?" she inquired. "Yer lookin' for Snape? What for?"

"So he _does_ live here,"

"He won't much longer if he don't pay the rent," the woman snorted, sucking back on her cigarette. "So ya know him?"

Gwen shrugged. "Yeah, sort of,"

"Sort of? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's complicated,"

Scoffing, the woman sat back in her chair and her cat purred.

"Complicated, eh? Yer just as secretive as he is. Ah, go on. He lives on the third floor. Room twelve."

"Thanks,"

While Gwen turned and marched up the stairs, the woman called-

"And tell him to eat something, for goodness sake!"

Gwen mounted the creaking stairs into a dimly lit narrow hallway with hideous orange wallpaper and stained carpet. She turned to the right, made her way down the cramped hall, and mounted another set of stairs.

This hallway was identical to the one beneath except its wallpaper was a grass green and its floor was purely wood. It was also more cramped and smelled very similarly to Carter's pizza shop.

There was a loud noise that echoed down the hall towards her.

The noise came from an overweight man with balding black hair, a bushy black moustache, a squashed nose, a gold chain, a yellow plaid shirt, and ludicrous purple pants who was pounding on the dark green door to apartment 12, shouting at it in Italian.

Gwen paused at the top of the stairs. The Italian man continued to scream and pound. Then the door opened a crack, held together by the lock chain, and Snape's face, shrouded by greasy hair, appeared.

It was a surprise for her when Snape started arguing back- in Italian. The two men yelled at one another before the door slammed with a harsh bang.

The Italian man pounded another heavy fist onto the green door and dust fell from the ceiling. He spun on Gwen, who flinched and clutched her backpack straps.

"What're you lookin' at?"

"I'm here to see Snape,"

The Italian man looked from the door to Gwen, back to the door, and back again. He pointed a rectangular finger at the door with an eyebrow cocked.

"You are here to see _Snape_?!"

She nodded slowly. A hearty laugh erupted from the Italian man's belly and wide mouth. Gwen swallowed and her cheeks turned pink. The Italian man was only a head taller than Gwen but she still shrunk when he approached her.

"Good luck gettin' in there. He does not talk to no one!" he hissed. "What child does he know?"

"He knows me," Gwen said with false confidence.

"Does he now?" the man sneered, his beady brown eyes narrowing. "Well then, little girl. If that overgrown bat lets you in his little cave, you tell him that Wario wants his money and he wants it NOW!"

Spit flew onto Gwen's face but she politely didn't wipe it away. The man spun on his heel, grumbling in Italian, and he entered a room across from Snape's slamming the door.

Gwen blinked several times and furrowed her brow, mouth open a ways. Wario? As in...'Super Mario Bros' Wario? Snape owed rent to..._Wario_?

Before she went on a new train of thoughts, she approached Snape's door. Raising a fist, she pattered the door nervously.

Nothing.

She sighed and turned around. Wario was watching her through his door and put two fingers to his eyes, pointing them at Gwen. He slowly closed the door.

Yeah, that was Wario, alright. A beat down, hit-rock-bottom, working on welfare Wario. She really wanted a bit of time to process the fact that Snape owed Wario money and Wario wasn't actually a cartoon character. Which cartoon characters stayed cartoons and which didn't? Was there a separate dimension for cartoons? Was Toontown much bigger than what was shown in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?"? She had to assume so.

She knocked on Snape's door again, a little louder and longer. She waited patiently, paced back and forth, and approached the door again. Drawing her self up, making a tough knuckle, and pounded hard on the door.

There were two clicks as the chain lock and doorknob lock came undone.

"Fine, fine, FINE! You want to speak, you insolent, fat, stupid-"

The door swung open inward and Snape stood in the doorway, seething through his teeth, hand shaking over the doorknob. Gwen flinched backwards when he suddenly appeared.

Snape's entire body relaxed and his face softened when he looked down his hooked nose and saw that it was only Gwen standing there.

The girl smiled awkwardly and laughed.

"H-Hi, Professor," she said. "I- I'm back."

The relaxation in Snape's body and face began to creep away and his shoulders went rigid. He began to scowl again and Gwen took another step back.

"You," he snarled. "I should have known. I should have guessed."

She opened her mouth but Snape's white hand clasped over her arm and he yanked her into his apartment building. She screamed as he threw her hard against the floor, slamming the door and locking it.

"HEY! What the hell?" she cried angrily, rubbing the back of her head. "I know you're mad- I do- but-"

She stopped when she saw the furious look on Snape's face as he towered over her. Her body curled up slightly and she realized that she was actually afraid.

"Mad?" Snape growled. "MAD?! You follow me into a restaurant, watch me while hidden, follow me for over an hour, show up at my door to say 'hi' and you think I'm MAD? I'd say mad is an understatement at this time!"

"Well-"

"Well WHAT?" Snape yelled, his teeth bared.

Gwen flinched again and looked to the side. That was when she noticed Snape's apartment as a whole.

It was horribly small and horribly empty. The entire room had to have not been any larger than her bedroom- probably smaller. There was a small, single bed directly behind her with its head at the wall, its brown blanket scratchy and its white sheets thin. There was a single closet on the opposite wall that doubled as a bathroom with one toilet. On the wall directly next to the door was a sink, a wooden dresser, and a mirror next to the closet on another dresser. A door led to a small balcony on the farthest window.

It smelled strongly of something juicy Gwen couldn't place.

"You live _here_?"

"Don't you DARE change the subject, girl!" Snape barked. "What was going through that thick skull of yours that told you it was a wonderful idea to spy, stalk, and follow me all day? Did Starfleet put you up to this? Is this still about that credit card?"

"Okay, first of all," Gwen's voice trembled, shaking to her feet. She fought to keep her blue eyes locked onto Snape's cold, black pair. "That credit card thing was uncool. But I'm not with Starfleet! I'm here on my own accord."

"Your own accord is not one I believe you should be on," Snape spat. "Is that how you ended up in trouble with Jason? You followed your own accord?"

"He chased ME!" Gwen cried. "I was trying not to DIE! If you hadn't shown up-"

"Are you trying to tell me that Jason decided to randomly chase after a randomly placed child who just happens to be separated from the rest of the panicking Muggles?" Snape sneered. "How does THAT come into such quick play?"

He had cornered her. Gwen looked down at her feet and bit her lip.

"I thought maybe...the gunshots were...from the Suicide Squad," she admitted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know. Suicide Squad," Gwen looked back up. "Deadshot? Captain Boomerang? Harley Quinn?"

Snape squinted. "What are those? Diseases?"

"They're supervillains,"

At this, Snape rolled his eyes and massaged his right temple.

"Those masked idiots in spandex who run around robbing banks and monologuing?"

"They don't ALL wear masks or spandex," Gwen defended.

"You wanted to see supervillains so you ran headlong into a gunfight," Snape exhaled. "How very brilliant and so very typical."

"We don't have supervillains where I come from! You looked into my head! You know that!" Gwen snapped.

Her spine jittered when Snape traced his mouth with a long white finger. Then, he pointed at the bed.

"Sit,"

She did so immediately and the edge of the bed sank under her weight. She saw that the stack of newspapers and the bag of food was at the end of the bed. Snape continued to stand over her.

"All I saw when I looked into that simple mind of yours was that you are not of this world. I had neither the time nor patience to venture into your brain. What I do know is what you are. But, seeing as you were so very eager to disrupt my evening and intrude on my living, I will now have the time to do so," he whispered. "I'm going to ask you questions and you are going to answer without hesitation. If you lie to me, I will know."

"Okay!" Gwen said with a smile. She paused as Snape cocked a perfect eyebrow. "Oh. I mean- aw crap. Yes, sir."

There was a moment of silence and Snape clasped his hands behind his back, glaring at the girl, who sat with wide eyes and her hands in her lap.

A part of her knew that her first conversation with Snape was not going to be a pleasant one. Unless she could somehow be the most cooperative, kind, and understanding person she could be.

After all, she was staring at a man who's entire miserable life was known to her.

But how could Snape know Gwen was an All-Knower but not aware of what world she was from?

"What made you so determined to disrespect my boundaries and follow me to a place I keep completely to myself?"

"I- I never meant to disrespect you," Gwen said. "I just wanted to talk to you. I really wanted to talk to you."

"And why is this? To somehow thank me for saving your naive skin back at the Charactia Center?"

"I will be eternally grateful for that but...that's not the main reason. I've heard so much about you where I come from and I've...always wanted to meet you. And now you're here and you're alive," Gwen explained breathlessly.

Snape flexed his fingers behind his back.

"Where exactly did you hear about me? You obviously don't attend Hogwarts, your accent is Ilvermorny based, but you wear its symbols across your chest,"

Snape pointed coldly at Gwen's Hogwarts sweater and she blushed, looking at her hands.

"So where," Snape continued. "did you get that sweater?"

Gwendolyn could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment and she balled her fists. "I got it at Frenchy's,"

"Excuse me?"

"I got it," She looked into Snape's eyes again. "at Frenchy's. It's a second-hand clothing store."

Snape moved his head to the right a tad, still glaring at Gwen.

"A second-hand clothing store. You've bought Muggle clothing? Muggle clothing with a magical school across the chest?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"Because you should have been taught that Muggle attire is the lowest form of clothing our kind could don," Snape scoffed. "Of course, I expected nothing better from a tagalong child without any rules inside her empty head."

"Muggle attire is not low," Gwen said, a finger extended. "It's very comfy, you know."

"Is it now?" Snape said, his lip curling. There was cruel amusement in his eyes. "I don't know what I was expecting. Clearly, your parents have taught you nothing."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gwen snapped. "I like my clothing."

"You buy from a Muggle clothing store, you chase after supervillains, you choose not defend yourself against against brawny Vorhees like any natural one of your kind would, and you strut about wearing a highly secret magical school's name across your chest," Snape drawled. "Even more, you decide to follow me all day in hopes being able to 'talk to me'. Have the standards really been dipping so dramatically?"

"What do you want to know?" Gwen asked, exasperated by Snape's long, drawn out insult.

He leaned forward so that he and Gwen's faces were barely a foot apart and Gwen could see her nervous, pale reflection in his coal eyes.

"Wow," she breathed. "Your eyes really are black. Were you born that way because-"

"How do I get back to Hogwarts?"

"What?"

The question took her completely off guard. Snape was gazing into Gwen's eyes so intensely, her cheeks were now dark purple.

"You have Muggle clothing with Hogwarts upon it. You know who I am, you know what a Muggle is so tell me. How do I get back to Hogwarts? Are there any wizarding societies here in New York City? How do I find them? Can I connect with the Ministry of Magic in any way?"

"Why are you asking me about this?" Gwen asked.

"Why not?" Snape snarled. His eyes were wide and his voice was sounding desperate. "I've been alone for over four months with barely anyone like me to talk to!"

"Why? Can't you go back?"

"If I could go back, I wouldn't be sleeping in a Muggle dung-hole like this! I need to return to Hogwarts! It's burning to the ground, under the Dark Lord's fist-"

"I don't know how to get to Hogwarts! Not from MY standpoint!" Gwen cried shrilly.

"Your...standpoint?"

"I can't get to Hogwarts!"

"Why not? All of our kind knows the location of Hogwarts. It's not exactly kept secret with the Daily Prophet always breathing down our necks."

"It's all the way in London! I don't have that kind of money-"

She stopped. "Hold on. Did you just say 'our kind'?"

She assessed Snape's words over and over.

"Ohhhhhh. I see. You think I'm a witch!"

There was a pause. Snape drew himself up, eyes narrowing, jaw dropping slowly.

"Of- Of course. You know about Hogwarts-"

Gwen was shaking her head quickly. "No, no, Professor, I'm sorry, you've got it all wrong- I'm not a witch! I'm not a Squib even!"

There was something confused and painful in Snape's eyes.

"You cannot get to Hogwarts?"

"No,"

"The last I saw the castle, it was under siege. I need to go back- I need to-" Snape appeared to be begging. "You must know something."

"Professor," Gwen said quietly. "I'm sorry. I can't get into the magical world. I wish I could. I've spent enough time reading about it."

She expected him to further question her about her sweater and knowledge of then Wizarding World, but Snape's face had gone very distant. He began to pace back and forth, muttering under his breath.

"P-Professor?" Gwen whispered. "Are you okay-"

"ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME," Snape spun on her, face twisted with a hideous rage that sent Gwen moving across the bed to the other side. "THAT YOU KNOW NOTHING?"

She was too frightened now to say anything. She climbed off the bed so that it sat between her and the raging Snape. However, he began to round it.

"YOU WEAR THE NAME AND YOU KNOW NOTHING? I HAVE NOTHING LEFT! MY WORLD COULD BE GONE! HOGWARTS COULD BE GONE! AND I'VE BEEN TRAPPED IN A WORLD I DON'T UNDERSTAND FOR FOUR MISERABLE MONTHS!" Snape screeched.

He was approaching her as she retreated. She held up her hands.

"Snape- Listen to me- Hogwarts is-"

"DON'T EVEN BOTHER OPENING THAT WORTHLESS MOUTH OF YOURS!" Snape bellowed, spitting. "I WANT ANSWERS! I WANT THEM NOW! I'VE BEEN DENIED FREEDOM, FOOD, AND MY HOME AND I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF IT! WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY DO TO RAISE ME FROM THIS PIT? HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY MAKE ANYTHING BETTER? YOU DON'T!"

He stopped to collect himself and look around wildly, as if he had forgotten where he was. His yellowish teeth were out, he was hunched over, his body trembling.

"Do you have ANY idea the HELL I've lived through these past months? Do have ANY IDEA what it's like to be COMPLETELY ALONE with NO IDEA about what is occurring- what has HAPPENED to your HOME? I have SUFFERED these past months. A suffering you cannot BEGIN to understand,"

Gwen swallowed. She was becoming to realize that he had no idea about Voldemort's defeat. He had died and come back in the dark about the entire fate of Harry Potter.

And although he was shouting at her, furious and red-faced, it was very clear that he was dreadfully lonely and was relishing in finally being able to vent to SOMEONE.

"Then YOU come along, following me like a pathetic little lost puppy, somehow knowing what Hogwarts is but has nothing- NOTHING on how I can return there! What did you POSSIBLY hope to gain from this?! Can't you see that my life is DIFFICULT ENOUGH without having a STUPID, WHINING, SHADOW THAT STALKS YOU AND-"

Snape began to cough again. Rather forcibly, too. He coughed, a gurgling sound in his throat, at the carpet and repeatedly hacked. Gwen wrinkled her nose, as this went on for quite some time.

She was forced to look away when Snape coughed up a wad of rich blood onto the already filthy carpet.

Wiping his mouth with his tightly buttoned sleeve, leaving a new stain of blood, Snape straightened back up.

"Get that pity out of your eyes," he snapped.

"I'm sorry. You just look really sick," Gwen muttered.

"I am sick of being left in the dark," Snape said quietly, taking in deep breaths looking away from her. "I'm sick of being in this filthy Muggle world while my world crumbles and burns. I'm sick of you-" He glowered at her, "pestering me. How dare you know anything about my world... when you don't belong there? When you don't belong _here_?"

During the pause, as Snape stared out the glass balcony doors, Gwen inhaled. Then, she said-

"Do you wanna know how I know about Hogwarts? How I know about you?"

Although he was making an effort not to show his interest, Snape's darkly circled eyes flickered to her for a second. Gwen stepped closer to him, lowering her backpack onto the floor.

"Do you really want to know how I be neither Charactian or magic to know that?" she asked.

"My patience with you wore thin several hours ago in that Subway. This had better be worth some of the time you have wasted," Snape said.

"I know who you are and what Hogwarts is and everything else because...I'm an All-Knower,"

Snape's eyes flickered back and held onto Gwen's gaze for a bit longer.

"In my universe, it's just like this one. But...you're fictional," Gwen said this carefully, as not to rush the point to Snape. "In my universe, your world and Hogwarts and everything that happened to you while AT Hogwarts is fiction. It was written for a novel series. Books. You're a character on a page. Everything that you experienced leading up to your death, was written for you by a woman named J.K. Rowling."

Despite his collar being up so high, Gwen could've sworn she saw him gulp.

"Then, those books got made into movies and they got an actor to portray you. The way you look when you look into a mirror is what your actor and your book description look like. That's why I was so desperate to talk to you. Because..." She decided to leave out the part about him being her absolute favourite character of all time, "Because you're famous where I come from and I read your story for five straight years of my life. And you're supposed to be dead..."

She also decided to leave out the part about Alan Rickman's death.

"What...are you saying?" Snape said, facing her again.

"I'm saying that a woman in my universe invented you for a novel series about Harry Potter's life," Gwen spat out. "You're not real there. You never were."

Silence.

"I got on the wrong bus home and somehow ended up in Charactia. When I saw you beating that ATM, I couldn't believe it was really you. I just had to talk to you," Gwen breathed.

"So... You do know how I can go to Hogwarts?"

"Not from here without money,"

Snape looked down and cracked his fingers. Gwen smiled. She could do the exact same trick.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked.

Snape said nothing and Gwen took this as a green light.

"You won,"

"What?"

"You beat Voldemort-"

"Don't say his name!" Snape spat at her. He began to unconsciously rub his left forearm.

"But there's no reason not to!" Gwen cried. "I know all about Harry Potter's adventures! All of them! For me, your death- your sacrifice- is just a few chapters from the end of the series! Harry beat the Dark Lord! He won! Hogwarts is still open!"

"How can that possibly be true?" Snape whispered. "How can Hogwarts thrive after what I witnessed? How can my world still stand after how I left it? The last I saw Hogwarts...there were bodies strewn across a courtyard I walked every day. Children. Students. Do you have any idea what it's like see the students you taught- the students you watched file into your classroom- dead before you?"

Gwen folded her arms and tried not to think about it. She had forgotten that Snape himself had actually fought at Hogwarts' battle before he was killed.

"I destroyed that place. It was all my fault," Snape's voice cracked. He swallowed and blinked several times. "I allowed those children to be tortured under my very nose. I allowed the Carrows to torture those first-years. First-years."

"It wasn't your fault!" Gwen said. "You had to keep your cover! You protected them the best you could!"

"I protected no one," Snape muttered. "I let Charity Burbage die."

"You had no choice!" Gwen exclaimed.

"I COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING!" Snape bellowed at her.

He started another coughing fit and tears welled up in Gwen's eyes. Charity Burbage had been a colleague of Snape's at Hogwarts. She was tortured, killed, and then eaten by Voldemort's snake Nagini right before Snape's eyes.

"Severus," Gwen said timidly, crying. "You can't blame yourself. You can't blame yourself. You can't torture yourself like this-"

He wiped his mouth and his eyelids drooped. He looked ready to collapse.

"You should sit down," Gwen noticed.

"Nonsense, I'm-"

He coughed again and staggered.

"You've ruined this night," Snape snarled.

"Why? Because I know everything about you?" Gwen retorted. "Hogwarts is safe, Snape. There's nothing for you to worry about. Everything's alright."

He moved towards the bed and sat down, his hands trembling slightly. Gwen sat down next to him.

"How can everything be 'alright'?" he hissed. "Potter had to die. He had to die-"

"But he didn't. Volde- Sorry, the Dark Lord killed Harry's Horcrux soul so that left Harry's soul untouched. Then he came back,"

A new look of anger crossed Snape's face.

"Dumbledore," he growled. "He knew."

"Just for the record," Gwen said, nudging Snape with her shoulder. "I freaking HATE Dumbledore. He didn't tell Harry anything and if you hadn't given your memories to Harry, he would never have known to go into the Forest."

"He used me," Snape was shaking. "The bloody old bat used me."

"I agree," Gwen nodded. "At least you TOLD Harry stuff. At least you TOLD Harry the hard truth. YOU explained Harry's connection with Vold- Oh geez, the Dark Lord's mind! YOU told Harry you were spying on the Dark Lord! YOU actually risked your life every second of the day to protect that kid!"

"A punishment I will never forget," Snape said bitterly.

"But since you gave Harry your memories, Harry knew to die. So technically..." Gwen smiled at him. "Severus Snape saved the Wizarding World."

The two sat in silence. His face was unfathomable but Gwen could tell that Snape was processing everything through his brain. Analyzing all that was said to him.

"Someone...invented me," he said.

"Yeah,"

"I'm...fictional?"

"Not anymore you're not,"

More silence. Snape inhaled and sat with his mouth open for a second, creasing his brow.

"I did not die for Potter," he finally spoke. "All I did, I did it-"

"For Lily," finished Gwen with a polite smile. "I know."

"Because you're an All-Knower," Snape stated, almost to himself.

Gwen sighed and repeated- "Because I'm an All-Knower,"

"Therefore, you think you have a right to intrude on my personal space," Snape suddenly snapped.

Rising from the bed, Gwen faced Snape angrily.

"That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, the truth isn't fair, but it still exists," Snape snarled.

Gwen was stammering over her words trying to defend herself but she was thinking about his statement. Did she really think that it was alright to follow Snape just because she was an All-Knower?

"I wanted to thank you for saving me and to ask you how you survived Nagini!" she cried. Snape rose to his own feet and Gwen wished he hadn't. He towered over her again.

"I don't know how I survived and you can THANK me by leaving!" He pointed at the door. "I'm not having anymore of my time wasted by a little girl who knows all the nooks and crannies of my life! I want you GONE!"

"I don't care!" Gwen yelled. "How did you survive Nagini?"

"I don't KNOW!" Snape shouted back. His right hand had gone to the left side of his throat and he started to massage it.

"How could you not know?!" Gwen shrieked. "You're the one who DIED!"

"The last thing I remember was seeing Lil- Potter's eyes and then I woke up! That is IT! I don't know how I healed, how I woke up, or how I ended up inside that laboratory AT ALL!"

The two stood, glaring each other down, breathing heavily at one another. Snape's eyes were mad and glinting. Gwen stepped towards him.

"Lab? What lab? You woke up in a lab?"

It had just struck Snape's consciousnesses about what he had said. His lips thinned, his fists clenched, and his pupils became overwhelmed with a wild anger. Noticing the change, Gwen carefully decided to round him and the bed.

"Get out," he hissed.

"I'm going, see?"

But a hard pincerlike grip snagged her arm, dragging her towards the door.

"GET OUT!" Snape bellowed, spit flying from his mouth. "GET OUT, GET OUT, AND NEVER COME BACK!"

He waved his free hand and the door swung open. Gwen was once again thrown hard to the ground and yelled in pain when her backside hit the wood floor. Snape, still panting with fury, snapped his fingers and Gwen's backpack came flying over the bed and out the room, into Gwen's chest.

Her jaw dropped as something in her brain clicked.

"Professor- Wait- I need to tell you something-"

But Snape scowled and the door slammed in her face, locking with two clicks.

Without hesitation, she pushed her backpack off of her and stood up, running at the door, pounding at it.

"Snape! I just realized something! Come on, let me in- please! I have to tell you something! Snape! SNAPE!"

But it was very obvious that he was not going to open the door again.

"Snape!" she yelled, looking at the number twelve on the door.

"Listen! Harry Potter puts his youngest son on the train to Hogwarts nineteen years after the battle! Nineteen years later...it was just this past year! Snape, if the last thing you remember was dying, and you've only been awake for four months... you've been asleep for twenty years!"

No answer. No voice. No nothing.

"I am coming back," Gwen growled. "See you Saturday, Half-Blood Prince."

And with that, she turned and raced down the stairs, ignoring Wario racing from his room and screaming down to her about Snape's rent.

She didn't know that Snape had been standing, facing the door the whole time.

That he had heard what she had told him.

That he had run to the toilet and vomited on an empty stomach due to shock.


	9. Memories and Newspapers

**I do not own any properties used.**

Light.

Bright, white, blinding light.

Snape's eyelids were heavy but they flickered open ever so slightly.

His head was pounding, his throat burned. He couldn't seem to be able to move. He flexed his right hand but was only able to move his fingers slightly. He could not make a fist like he was trying to do.

The last thing he remembered...what was the last thing he remembered? What was remembering?

His head throbbed hard behind his eyes and he blinked. But it was his throat that he had the most feeling in. It burned like mad, stung like fire. He opened his mouth a little and tried to breathe in but the small gulp of air he managed licked his throat with flames.

He moaned, but his moan was raspy and it hurt to make it.

A muffled voice was speaking in the back of his head. It seemed to be speaking to _him_ but he couldn't be sure. His ears didn't seem to be working.

He did remember that he was having an odd dream. A rather startling one, actually. A dream that he was slowly recalling and wished he wasn't.

He had dreamt about a snake. A large, floating, dark green snake with white fangs like needles. He had dreamt about blood. A lot of blood. Pain. Fatigue. Near the end of his dream, he was finding it difficult to focus.

The last thing he recalled was seeing a pair of beautiful eyes. Eyes that belonged to a woman... Beautiful, red-haired, emerald-eyed with a soft smile that made him relax.

The dream had been rather terrifying but the end was calm, quick, and beautiful.

There were other parts to the dream as well. Two angry parents, frightened children in desks before him, bodies of people whom he knew, and one strange boy with a lightning scar who reappeared throughout.

The dream had been long, depressing, miserable, lonely, and frightening.

That was when Snape has realized that the dream had been his entire life.

"Argh-" was all he could manage out of his damaged neck. He continued to stare at the blinding light and the rest of his body slowly came into feeling.

He managed to move both of his hands into fists and groaned again.

"He speaks!" The muffled voice at the back of Snape's head was loud and clear now that his ears had started to work

again. "I can't believe it! It worked! He's alive!"

Snape blinked a few times and a hand touched his forehead.

"His fever's gone," the voice said.

"Excellent," a new voice rang in. "Is he responding?"

This one, to Snape, sounded slightly more high-pitched than the first. Like a female. Is that what females sounded like?

"Sir," the first voice spoke up. Snape was still staring at the light. "Sir, can you hear me? Give me a thumbs up if you can hear me."

A thumbs-up? Snape had never stooped to the level of giving a thumbs-up. Instead, he managed to somehow move his heavy head to the left.

The world was a fuzzy, green colour from looking at the light but it came into view slowly but surely.

He was in bed in a white room. He could already tell that he was in some sort of hospital. Now that his body had decided to return to its sense of touch, Snape could feel tubes running into both of his arms. There was some kind of plastic mask over his face.

But what really stood out to him was the large, metal collar around his throat, right underneath his chin, not unlike a brace. He could not move his head up and down.

Now that the world had cleared up (he head still throbbed, however), Snape could see that there was a man on the left of his bed. His white lab coat and spectacles just screamed Muggle to Snape. The man smiled.

"There you are. You feeling alright?"

Snape opened his mouth but was still unable to speak. All that came out was a gurgling grunting noise.

"Sorry I asked," the man said. "I'm afraid that your vocal chords are damaged but don't worry, you'll be better soon enough. We've managed to stop your bleeding, you were cut pretty bad across your neck."

"Where-" Snape gasped, his voice raspy. "Where am I?" He cringed from a sharp pain in his throat.

"Don't speak, dear," said the female voice. "Relax. You're safe now."

Swallowing what felt like acid, Snape moved his head to the right.

The woman on the right side of the bed also wore a white lab coat. She was rather plump with thin-rimmed round glasses on her wrinkled face and puffy silver hair down to the mid-section of her neck.

"Who-" Snape muttered.

"My name is Dr Natalie Brenner and this is my assistant, Dr Julius," the woman said with a smile. "You've been in a coma for about a week now, dear. Try and relax."

Relaxing was the last thing Snape felt like doing. His brain may have been sluggish but he was processing the situation well.

Hogwarts had fallen, the Dark Lord was winning, and he was somewhere far away from it all. The afterlife was supposed to be calm and beautiful wasn't it? No pain. No sorrow. No worry.

That was the first inkling that caused Snape to realize that this was not the afterlife. For he was in serious pain, the horrible memories were overtaking his mind, and he was intensely worried about where he was. This was not the afterlife.

Unless this was hell. He wouldn't be surprised if it was hell.

"I- need-" Snape had to force out every sound and syllable he made, "to- argh-"

"Yes, dear? What do you need?" Dr Brenner asked. Her clipboard and pen had just come into Snape's focusing and blurring vision.

"'Ogwarts-" Snape gasped. "Wher- is- Hogwarts?"

"What is Hogwarts, dear?" Dr Brenner inquired.

There was something hungry in her eyes that Snape did not like. She scribbled on her clipboard.

He was becoming impatient by barely being able to speak. He grunted and clenched his teeth.

"H-Hog- Hogwarts is my- My h- home,"' he snarled through fiery pain. "I n- eed to g-go b- ack,"

"You're not well, dear," Dr Brenner said kindly.

She touched Snape's hand and he flicked it off. He didn't like this woman. Not that he like anyone in particular, but he felt an extreme amount of hatred towards this one woman.

"I'm afraid you cannot return home until you have your strength again. But don't fret. We're going to help you get back on your feet and you'll be home in no time," Dr Brenner said with a sick sort of smile. Snape glowered at her.

"I d-don't w- ant y- our h-help," he gasped. "I w- ant a- an- answers!"

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his left forearm and he groaned. Dr Brenner was still smiling and both the doctors stood, standing over him.

"Rest," Julius whispered, also smiling. "You'll feel better in the morning."

No rest was wanted in Snape's mind. And yet, he was finding it difficult to stay awake. There were spots surrounded the two doctors' grinning faces. The sharp pain his forearm retracted out again and darkness started to fade into Snape's vision.

"I...w- ant... answers..." he muttered, his brain slowing down and his body limping. His eyelids felt very heavy.

"All in good time, dear," Dr Brenner whispered. Her grin was psychotic. "All in good time."

The darkness faded around her face and he was plunged into black once more.

Snape clutched the sheets and gasped awake the next morning from a nightmare about a python.

The collar around his throat was gone and the world was no longer blurred. He was still in that bed surrounded by what he now saw were white curtains, not walls.

The tubes had been removed from his arms and the holes were bandaged up. The breathing mask was still on his face.

Snape glanced around wildly as if the python from his nightmare would rear up from the end of his bed and strike.

But he was alone.

Well, not exactly alone. There was a face peering through the white curtains in front of him. It was a grey face, smiling a kind of reassuring smile.

He hoisted himself upright in bed, removing the breathing mask from his face. He analyzed it carefully, moving it close to his face. The things Muggles invented.

Snape placed the mask on a bedside table and looked down at himself. He was wearing his black buttoned coat but his carefully buttoned sleeves had been rolled up, his cravat sat on the bedside table. Instantly, he started to work at rolling down his left sleeve, when he caught a glimpse of the Dark Mark.

When he glanced back up, his heart nearly leaped out of his chest. Despite the sudden shock in his body, he kept his face calm except for blinking a few times.

Next to his bed stood a tall, grey, stone angel. She looked like some kind of elaborate garden decoration with her long dress perfectly stiff and the detail upon her large wings. She had the exact same face on as when she had been watching Snape through the curtains except now, she was right next to him.

"How'd you manage that?" Snape whispered. His throat was still sore but only swallowing seemed to really bother him.

The angel said nothing. She stood silently, smiling kindly. Snape blinked and in the very split second he did so, the angel was holding a tray of steaming broth and a glass of water.

Squinting at the tray, Snape rubbed his neck to find that it was heavily bandaged. He picked up his cravat from the bedside table and began to tie it over the bandages without effort.

In the time that he had reached for his tie and looked back up, the angel held a tray in one hand and a flip-notebook in the other. There was a black marker behind her stone ear.

The flip notebook was extended towards Snape.

Cautiously, keeping his glare on the angel, he removed the notebook from her hand.

He began to read through it.

_Hello, sir. My name is Mary. I have brought you breakfast that you should be able to digest. You look well this morning and your face has some colour in it. I am hopeful that you are very comfortable. _

"Comfortable?" Snape scoffed. "I've woken in a strange place and nobody will tell me how I've survived a blood-draining snake bite. I am far from comfortable, _Mary_. "

As Snape blinked twice, the angel had stopped smiling. She looked somber now and the notebook was back in her hand. Snape took it back timidly and skipped a few pages.

_I'm so very sorry to hear that. You must be very disoriented. Do not worry. Dr Brenner sends her regards and suggests that you eat something before being moved to your room. Today, she wishes to help you hone whatever abilities you have after you were slaughtered mercilessly. _

Snape raised an eyebrow and looked back at the angel, who was now holding out the tray. The smile on her face was bashful.

"I am not hungry," Snape snarled.

Blink.

The angel, now with another sullen look, pointed at the notebook for Snape to turn one more page. With the tips of his fingers, he flipped to the next page.

_You must eat while she lets you._

Snape's eyes widened.

"What?" he hissed.

There was the sound of a door closing and both the angel and Snape had looked towards the curtains. Dr Brenner had entered the vicinity, hands clapped together, exhaling and beaming.

"Ah! You're up! Very good. I see you've met Mary! Lovely girl, quiet but lovely. How are you two doing this morning?"

Mary was now scowling and Snape felt sick from what he had just read. Carefully, he lowered Mary's notebook under his bedsheets.

"I've heard that you're aware I have...powers," Snape started the conversation.

He swung his black socked feet out of bed and stood next to Mary. He became light-headed but he hid it, folding his hands behind his back.

"Everyone who comes here has something, dear," Dr Brenner said sweetly. "And now that you're able to talk, I suggest you eat something. Did Mary give you that message?"

"I received it quite well from her shoving that tray under my nose," Snape snapped.

When he looked back at Mary, she was now glaring at him. But it didn't look like an angry glare to Snape. In all of his deduction skills, the glare seemed to give the message 'play nice'.

"I'll just take this then," Dr Brenner said through her teeth, prying the tray from Mary's hands. "Now, dear, why don't you tell me your name and I'll escort you to your room? Mary, why don't you go downstairs and visit Ms Holmes? She quite likes your company. Good day."

Snape felt as though not following Dr Brenner would result in some kind of punishment. It was a stupid feeling. He was much powerful than this Muggle and she was withholding information from him.

But as he followed Dr Brenner out through the curtains and into the white hospital ward, he saw Mary hold out her notebook with two words written on the page:

_Be careful. _

Once they exited the hospital ward, Professor Snape and Dr Brenner were in a white tiled hallway with grey walls. To Snape, it looked like some kind of Muggle hospital. Except there were black armoured guards marching up and down the halls.

"You must excuse them," Dr Brenner sighed as she and Snape walked down the corridor. "They're for other guests. Less cooperative guests. I hope very much that you remain cooperative Mr..."

"Snape. Professor Snape," Snape said bitterly. He was eying the guards with as much hatred as he could muster. It felt wobbly being on his feet directly out of a coma but he was keeping himself reserved as always.

From looking at the few hallways they passed through, Snape could already tell that these people wanted something from him. They were all Muggles. He was very far from Hogwarts.

There was a nudge in the back of his mind that was telling him that he was not a patient, nor a guest. He attempted to use Legilimency on Dr Brenner but when he tried, a sharp pain throbbed his forehead.

"A professor then!" Dr Brenner breathed. "How very impressive. What would you be a professor in, Professor Snape?"

"I'd rather not say," Snape muttered.

They were passing a large set of green doors, flanked by two armoured guards, the top of the door littered with signs that read ELECTRIC FENCES, MOTION SENSOR LASERS, and ALL PERSONNEL MUST WEAR ARMOUR. And it could have been Snape's imagination, but he swore that he heard the sound of faint piano music from behind the doors.

"Oh just ignore that hall," Dr Brenner said dismissively. "You won't have any need to go down there."

"You want me to stay here in this...place," Snape told the doctor as they moved into another identical hallway. "I want to know everything about it if you have any desire of me staying here."

Dr Brenner clicked her tongue.

"Many of the guests call this place 'Hotel California'. But I'd like to know everything about _you_, Professor Snape. I see we both have desires for knowledge. So, where do you come from? You sound like you're from... England?"

"I do not think you are listening," Snape hissed. He stopped walking and faced Dr Brenner. She had an innocent look on her face. "I don't know where I am, how I've come here, or who you are. I want to know how I came from Hogwarts to this place and where it is, who you are, and how I lived after being..."

The image of Nagini closing in on his face reappeared in his mind and he compulsively touched his neck.

"Does it hurt?" Dr Brenner asked.

"Don't be stupid, of course not," Angry with himself, Snape lowered his hand behind him.

A shadow crossed Dr Brenner's face. "I returned your life, Professor Snape. Don't you ever call me stupid again,"

"You believe me to be frightened of you?" Snape snarled. His temper was beginning to flare. "A naive little Muggle like yourself? Withholding information from me is something I can easily pluck from your mind."

"Can you?" Dr Brenner was smirking.

"I can and unless you want me to force you to speak through unbearable pain, I suggest you wipe that smug little look off your face,"

"I would very much like to investigate that power of yours. What it's called?"

Snape drew himself up to full height, looking down his hooked nose with distaste. He reached his right hand into his pocket to pull out his wand when...

"Where's my wand?" he whispered.

"Excuse me?" Dr Brenner's smirk was even broader.

"My wand," His lips turned white and his hands shook with anger. "What have you done with my wand?"

"Is _that_ what you call it?" Dr Brenner sneered. "I'll make a note of that. And what do you do with this wand, Professor Snape?"

Fury surged through Snape's body and all of it was focused directly at the fifty-year-old plump face below him. This woman had taken him from his home and was treating him like he was some kind of...specimen.

Who did she think she was, questioning him about his magic? She didn't deserve to know anything until he knew where he was! He should have died! He HAD died! Why was he here? He didn't have to listen to this Muggle wench!

"Where is my wand?" he growled.

"Is it really that important to you?" Dr Brenner continued to ask. "What is it exactly? Is it part of who you are? Does it aid in what you described as 'creating unbearable pain'? What do you need-"

"Stop asking me questions," Snape interrupted.

His temper had reached his throat and he was holding down a stream of curses on this woman. She wasn't worth hurting but he wanted to...he wanted to...

The lights across the hall ceiling were flickering violently and Snape had clenched his fists.

"Tell me where I am now," he said.

"I don't think that's important information,"

"It is to me,"

The lights were rattling, as was the bowl of broth in Dr Brenner's hands. Snape hadn't felt anger like this in years. It was hot, bubbling, clenching his stomach. He had always been so good at suppressing his temper but it seemed difficult now. He wanted information. He wanted it now. He didn't care what he had to do to get it.

He hated this woman.

He hated this place.

He hated _everything_.

The lights were sparking, the water glass suddenly exploded and Dr Brenner dropped the tray in shock, water splashing both her and Snape, glass everywhere.

Snape barely flinched. He was too focused on Dr Brenner's smirking face, who was staring in wonder at Snape's enraged one.

"You did that," she whispered. "Incredible. How did you do that?"

"TELL ME WHERE I AM, YOU STUPID WOMAN!" Snape suddenly bellowed. He was not aware that SWAT guards were rounding in, their weapons raised at him.

"You're doing this, aren't you?" Dr Brenner was now admiring the rattling, flickering lights. "Without even trying. How wonderful."

He jinxed her. In that moment, his rage spilled out in a loud number of jinxes, spitting at her face. Dr Brenner was thrown back by an invisible force onto the wall behind her. She was pinned there and Snape approached her.

He was horrified to see her cackling madly.

"Incredible! How have you done that? Were you born this way? Can you do anything else?"

"SILENCE!" Snape screamed. He glared at her and she slid up the wall, whacking her head on the ceiling. "I am NOT YOUR TOY!"

His unblinking eyes burned from holding her to the wall with jinxes flying through his head. He whispered a jinx and Dr Brenner was pushed down from the ceiling, hard to the floor.

Snape stood over her lifeless form, loathing lined every part of his face, magic raced through his veins just waiting...it was waiting for the perfect time to release.

There was a round of clicks and Snape remembered where he was. He turned and saw that there were six guards with heavy machine guns pointed at his head. The lights rained sparks and the tray on the floor rattled

He raised a hand at the guard across from him and his mouth moved to form a jinx but a scream ripped his throat and out his mouth. The scream tore at his lungs, pierced his own ears, and strangled his throat.

The guard's electrical baton that had been speared into his stomach sent volts of hard electricity through his body, keeping him screaming, twitching, his heart's pace quickening. The baton was removed and Snape's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he crumpled to the floor.

Another hideous, agonizing scream ripped out his tongue as the baton hit him on the ground. His body jerked. This baton was some sort of Muggle rendition of the Cruciatus curse. Pain seared through his body and when it stopped, he was unable to move. The world was fading fast.

He lay there, surrounded by guards and a newly awakened Dr Brenner, the lights still flickering.

"Keep that baton charged," Dr Brenner whispered with an obsessed grin. "This one is going to be very difficult."

"Sir- Sir- Wake up- Wake up! You're dreaming! You're having a bad dream!"

Snape shouted and bolted upright, whipping his wand out. He had pointed it at a young African-American college girl with dreadlocks dyed red at the end. She raised her hands, panting.

He was soaked in sweat, his hands trembled. The anger he had felt at Dr Brenner was still racing through him.

"Sir- It's alright- You were having a nightmare-" the girl said quickly. "You were having a nightmare!"

Snape's heart pounded as if though those volts were still boiling his veins. He blinked and shook his head, focusing on the girl.

He was on the floor of his bedroom, fully dressed, surrounded by carefully arranged newspapers dating back four months, certain words highlighted, strings lining from paper to paper in a complicated web only he could understand. The girl was kneeling on the newspapers in front of him

"How did you get in here? Who are you?" he demanded to the girl. "What do you want? Who dare let you in here?"

"My name is Mick and you need to relax!" the girl said. "You were having a bad dream! It's alright!"

"I am not going to relax until you give me ANSWERS!" Snape screamed, his wand aimed at the spot between Mick's eyes. The girl's brown eyes were filled with fear and her arms were still raised.

She was not Dr Brenner. He needed to calm down. Snape took in a few deep breaths and closed his eyes for a moment. He regretted doing so as he could still see Dr Brenner laughing against the wall.

"How," he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could. "did you get in here?"

"We could hear you screaming and I was worried- I live next door- and so I convinced Wario to give me a key and I came in and-" Mick's voice also shook. "You were here on the floor, jerking and twitching and screaming and-"

Snape looked over his shoulder and saw Wario in the doorway, arms folded. He shouted at Wario in defiant Italian. Wario waved a hand and disappeared from view. Looking back at Mick, Snape said-

"I am fine. I don't want you to do that ever again, understand?"

"I'm- I'm sorry- You sounded as though you were in pain-"

"Do I look like I'm in pain?"

"N-No, sir,"

"Of course not, silly girl," Snape barked. He blinked a few times and lowered his wand, wiping his face of sweat. "What time is it?"

"Five AM," Mick said quietly.

Snape nodded and looked around at his web of newspapers.

"You may go,"

"I don't think that's a good idea,"

This caused Snape to furrow his eyebrows at her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have a fever,"

"I what?"

"When you were dreaming- I shook you and I felt your forehead and- You're burning up- and- and your nose is bleeding."

Snape frowned but suddenly noticed the warm feeling on his lip. He reached up and wiped his nose with his sleeve. He swallowed when he looked down and saw the bright red liquid clash on the black of his fabric.

"I'm fine,"

"No, you're not," Mick argued, lowering her hands. "I think you need a doctor."

There was newfound sweat on Snape's head and he chose to ignore it. His stomach was aching from the heavy foods he had gorged down after that MacMillan girl left. He really didn't feel well but he was not going to admit it.

"I've had my fill of doctors, thank you, and I don't care what you think. I told you to leave," he said.

"I really think that-"

"OUT!" Snape yelled.

Mick jumped to her feet and tore out of the room, slamming the door. It echoed through the empty room and Snape rubbed his eyes, wiping his face.

Shakily, he stood up and looked at where he had fallen asleep.

The newspapers spread out from him in rows, details highlighted in enchanted colours that connected together, had strings lining across and around them. They spread all around the entire floor of the apartment, leaving one circle at the end of his bed for Snape to sit as he analyzed them. He had highlighted and strung together every major catastrophe, every murder, every scientific breakthrough, every mysterious disappearance.

Everything that might help him find the Wizarding World and who was behind keeping him in that lab.

It was his own little project. A case for himself. All of it was done to the point of perfection and careful planning. He was obsessed with it. Sometimes, he never slept as he worked on it.

Hearing that All-Knower girl tell him he had been asleep for twenty years had almost ruined the project for him. He needed to know everything that had happened while he was gone to figure out where magical activity was thriving into the Muggle world.

At least he knew his world was safe.

However, Snape was obsessed with finding the secrets behind that lab. While he was awake, his memory was blurred when it came to the details but he needed to know everything he could.

Sometimes, he saw things while he worked. Things that weren't there. He'd hear calm voices or see a black cloak flick by his eye, yellow eyes under his bed. Sometimes, he saw people.

This was a rare occasion and he liked it that way. Seeing people- hallucinating full images of people he once knew- it frightened him. Being awake sometimes held the same terror he had when he slept.

He had always had nightmares since he found Lily all those years ago in that ruined house. When he slept, he saw her there. He had never ceased to have those dreams. But lately, his nightmares weren't staying behind his eyelids.

Snape yawned loudly and buried his face in his hands. He was tired. Extremely tired. Flicking his wand, his door locked again. He flicked his wand again and curtains drew over his glass balcony doors.

He sat on the bed, his stomach moaning. Usually he awoke in about an hour but the food in his thin body seemed to be wearing him down.

Snape clenched his hands and stared at the door. He knew deep down that All-Knower girl was not gone forever.

He knew, deep down, she really would be back.

Professor Snape folded his hands in his lap and continued to stare at the door. If she was going to come back (and she would, there was no doubt), he was going to make her life miserable.

This was his case and his life, and he was not going to have a little tagalong fangirl breaking down his emotional walls or his careful work.


	10. The Right Ride

There had been a multi-bus stop outside of Snape's apartment and Gwen had sprinted across the road in order to catch the bus. It had been easier to stop traffic the second time around crossing. Which was good since she almost forgot to wave for the car to stop, because she was so focused on her conversation with Snape

How could she not be? He was Snape.

The bus with the old ad for Jurassic World had returned but this time, it was completely empty. Gwen rummaged in her rain jacket for Ethan's bus ticket. Luckily, the Vulcan driver didn't ask any questions and simply nodded for her to take a seat in the empty bus.

Three stops until her world. Just like the first time.

She burrowed in her backpack for her headphones before plugging them into her phone. Then, she watched the video she took of Snape closing Upside-Down over and over again.

He knew how to close an Upside-Down portal and had accidentally let slip that he awoke from death in a science laboratory.

To Gwen, this seemed spookily similar to Netflix's 'Stranger Things', the show about a boy who goes missing in a secret dimension that can only be contacted through a quiet and slightly insane psychokinetic girl (and through the occasional radios and Christmas lights). It was a huge hit for its originality and Gwen was certain it was going to be one of those shows she told her future kids about.

In the show, the mysterious girl named Eleven was also brought up and held against her will in a lab. And judging from the anger in Snape's voice when he accidentally told Gwen about it, it didn't take long for Gwen to come to the conclusion that maybe the lab had treated Snape the same way the other lab had treated Eleven: like a specimen for their extraordinary powers.

The Upside-Down was the dark and gooey dimension that boy Will Byers had vanished into (hence the name of the first episode being called "The Vanishing of Will Byers"). It was home to several terrifying creatures.

The Demogorgon was the most famous. Tall, Slender-Man-like, with a face that opened like a flower. It was the main Monster of the first season and, according to IMDb, the battle at the end to kill it was based upon 'Nightmare on Elm Street'. It was named after a 'Dungeons and Dragons' monster, since the main characters of the show were geeks, not unlike Gwen herself (except she had never played D&D before).

The two monsters introduced in the second season were Demodogs (think dogs, mixed with Demogorgons, mixed with velociraptors) and the Mind Flayer, an enormous shadow creature with telepathic abilities.

She couldn't believe she had seen the arm of a real Demogorgon. It was longer and grimier than she had seen on screen. But the Demogorgon had been killed by Eleven at the end of 'Stranger Things' first season so how had it returned?

This question returned to Gwen's first question about Snape. About how _he_ had returned. But she was nowhere closer to figuring out how he had survived because Snape himself had no clue either.

Gwen had already made up her mind that she was going to see him again. How could she not? She had read about him since she was eleven and now he was real...

A new thought struck her.

What if she could coax Snape into helping fight Hannibal? He could whip that cannibal back into the Gamma Quadrant. With his abilities, those monsters wouldn't stand a chance! And he was brilliant. The IMF could really use his mind and powers.

The IMF.

She had scored a job at the _IMF_ as a _consultant_. She could be the reason the IMF was able to beat horror movie characters. Well, she could be _a_ reason. She had never seen a horror movie before in her life and all the information she received was either from her friends or accidentally on the internet.

Still. A little information was better than none and the IMF had had none.

Gwen looked at her hands in her lap as the bus made a stop and usual flickering lights ensued. A Bajoran Vedek sat across from her with a holobook.

She had to tell someone about Charactia. About the crisis they were in. But who? Her parents? Would they believe her? Would they try and prevent her from returning to the new world? Her sister? No. She didn't want her sister to be in danger. It was bad enough that _she_ was.

And if they did believe her, would word get out? What if her world learned that their stories controlled this world? Would they use it to their advantage? Would they stop creating stories altogether, fearing what their characters would be living through? Would her world try and involve itself in their affairs? The implications were too complex and harrowing. People couldn't know about Charactia.

However, maybe she could tell her three best friends. All of them were nerds like her, some were experts in areas that she wasn't. Especially her friend Ryan, who was one of the biggest horror buffs she knew (besides her mom, of course). She could tell them and they were expert on keeping secrets. If Gwen told them how concerned she was that Charactia may be exploited for gain if discovered, they'd understand.

Before Gwen returned to Charactia on Saturday, she was going to need a weapon of some kind and a lot of information. She'd brave borrowing that book Ryan owned called "101 Horror Films To See Before You Die", maybe bring a new journal, bring her guides to fandom she owned, copy WIKI pages.

Maybe she could use some of her work money to buy that illustrated 'Harry Potter and the First Philosopher's Stone' to show Snape. Maybe.

She could bring her baseball bat. Of course, her sister wouldn't like that. She loved that baseball bat.

The bus stopped again, lights flickered, and the Vedek rose to his feet and his orange robes swept out of sight. Gwen swallowed and balled her fists.

She had a Starbucks gift card that she never planned on using. Snape wasn't eating. Perhaps she could convince him to use it.

Reaching into her pocket, Gwen looked at Ethan's ticket where his signature was scrawled across in black ink. He printed but he curved some of his letters, obviously just for a signature. Exactly like Gwen did. Except Ethan's handwriting was a bit on a right tilt.

He was a nice guy. Gwen was proud to be working with him, and not just because he used to be fictional.

Supergirl. She was gorgeous in real life. Like Superman, she looked like a mix of all of her actresses. Gwen wondered if maybe Kara would introduce her to Wonder Woman. Or Martian Manhunter. Or the entire Justice League. That would be fantastic.

Severus Snape. He was all that was taking her mind now. She couldn't stop thinking about him. His height, his face, his voice. She was required to return to the IMF but there was no stopping in her going back to him. Jason had recognized the sorcerer at the Charactia Center, they must've had a history.

And if Jason feared Snape- Gwen smirked excitedly- who knew how Hannibal would respond if _he_ saw the Half-Blood Prince.

It wasn't like Hannibal Lecter- or the General- knew about the All-Knower Universe or that she was an All-Knower at all. This was an advantage she had. Now all she had to do was not think about him at all. She had opportunity to put him away for good. _Her_. Against _him_. And that was terrifying.

She knew she probably wouldn't sleep tonight and would be forcing her brain to focus on Snape or decide if her parents should know about her discovery.

The bus stopped a third time after the lights flickered throughout, signalling the hop to her world. Gwen got to her feet. She passed the Vulcan driver and gave the 'Live Long and Prosper' symbol before exiting the bus. The Vulcan returned the gesture.

She hopped onto the dark sidewalk, pulling up her hood from the pouring rain, and turned. The bus had vanished, just like that, after it rolled a few feet forward. Gwen blinked. For some reason, that was not the weirdest thing she had seen today.

But she could hardly believe her eyes when she saw that she was directly across the street from her house, hidden behind two large green trees, shining through the night like heaven's gates.

Her heart raced and she bolted across the street to her home. She pounded up the front stairs and threw the screen door open, entered the porch, throwing the next door open to the foyer.

Both of her parents sat on the staircase right before her, both distressed and exhausted. They stared in disbelief as she did the same. Gwen suddenly burst into tears and ran into her parents' arms.

For a second, she pretended that every monster she saw that day was just a bad dream

For a second, she forgot she had sat next to Severus Snape and Rorschach. That she had spoken with Ethan Hunt. That she had seen the Demogorgon. That she had watched the full-body-bind spell take on Freddy Krueger.

For a second, she could forgot all about Charactia.

She could've spilled everything to her crying parents right there on the steps. Told them everything.

But she said nothing.

And neither did they.


	11. The Disir Speak

The bar in Room 237 was empty at two in the morning. Not because everyone else was asleep, but because they were all downstairs at the bar in the Gold Room.

Morgana _had_ gone to bed. She'd left about two hours ago, leaving the General to be the only one seated at the bar. He already on his third tall wine, though he had a famously high tolerance so the three glasses had little to no affect on him.

Room 237 was unrecognizable from what it was supposed to look like. It had even been connected to the hotel room next door after they busted down the wall between. It looked like an average, dimly-lit, wood pub. It had dark wood walls, a dark plywood floor, a poker table smack in the midst of the wooden tables, and a bar along the left wall directly next to the door. In the far corner at the back was the door that led the bathroom.

Nobody went to the bathroom in 237. It made them uncomfortable.

Bar 237, as it was now called, was where the monsters went to drink if they weren't in the mood to socialize, had screwed up orders from a superior, or were having some form of random identity crisis.

Hannibal was in here quite often.

He thought Morgana would've found it fascinating. He thought his ability to mix his own drinks would impress her. Instead, she had demanded answers of her whereabouts and survival from him. In the end, she stormed out and he ended up drinking her Cranberry Chianti Supreme.

As the General dipped some salted crackers into a Grande Grape Martini Tequila, the door creaked open and Krueger stepped in.

"Hey,"

"Sorry, but I don't speak to filthy backstabbers," Hannibal barked.

The Lieutenant groaned and closed the door. He approached Hannibal and sat on the stool next to him, folding his arms over the counter.

"Listen, man, he had to know. Sooner or later, the Captain was gonna go down to the garage and see that car, wonder what the hell happened to it, and then punch the snot outta the Server,"

"Good. Two birds with one stone. Serves them right for calling this place by your ridiculous nickname," Hannibal spat. "The BOO. Please."

"It is not a ridiculous nickname, it is an incredibly clever nickname that perfectly sums up where we work; and it's funny because we're horror Characters," the Lieutenant stated, leaning one arm on the bar. "But we aren't here to talk about my incredibly clever nickname. We are here because..."

He looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes. The General frowned.

"I'm sorry," The Lieutenant sighed and looked back down. "I can't believe I'm saying this, and I hope never to say it again...but you were right and I'm sorry."

A smirk crossed Hannibal's face.

"What?"

"Don't make me say it again. Anyway, I was handicapped in that moment. I should've respected your choice to drive. This does not mean I think you're a good driver, you are a frickin' terrible driver. But in that moment, your call made sense and I was a jerk,"

There was a pause. The General guffawed.

"_Yeah_, you were!"

"So were you though,"

"But being jerks is what we do, duuude," Hannibal winked, nudging Krueger with his elbow.

There was a deadpan look on the Lieutenant's face.

"Don't ever say 'dude' again,"

Another beat. The Lieutenant sighed dramatically, picking at a small piece of wood on the bar's counter with a bladed finger.

"Where's the witch?"

"Morgana's not a witch,"

"Whatever. Where is she?"

"She went to bed,"

"Aw. Date didn't go as planned?"

The General glowered. "It was not a date, Lieutenant. It was meant to be two adults speaking to one another about their personal lives and opinions,"

"That's what a date is!" Krueger cried.

The General said nothing and chugged back the last of his martini tequila. Then, he smiled slyly, narrowing his dark eyes.

"Oh boy," Krueger whispered. "I hate that face. What weird dastardly plan to impress the entities of the universe have you just come up with?"

"I wanna mix a drink for you, moron,"

"Oh. Wait- you mix? _You_?"

"After I saw how many of those ghost females you attracted downstairs from doing it, I immediately watched several videos on YouTube about it. Then, I wasted seven _more_ hours on YouTube. You know how _amazing_ that place is? You can watch literally anything you want," Hannibal gushed with wide eyes.

The Lieutenant stared at him with a horrified expression.

"Did you use my laptop?"

The General was grinning madly.

"Okay, remind me to delete my internet history next time I turn it on, alright?" the Lieutenant moaned.

Lecter put two hands on the counter and pulled himself up, swinging his body around to the other side of the counter. The Lieutenant nodded approvingly.

"That was cool. Where'd you learn that trick? Oh wait-"

"YouTube,"

"YouTube," Krueger buried his burned face in his hands. "That internet history is so gone."

While the General started pouring drinks into a mixer and began to shake them around, he asked- "Do you think signing that Tract was a good idea?"

"You're in charge, not me. I mean, I was a little pissed about it at first but, after thinking about it for a while, we have to do what's best for the WDP,"

"Why'd you even come up here? You're too evil to come up here just to apologize,"

"There's no such thing as being too evil to apologize," the Lieutenant noted.

"Then why don't I ever apologize for anything?"

"Because you're nuts," the Lieutenant laughed. "But that's alright, cuz so am I."

The General poured the dark red liquid from the shaker into a martini glass and then whipped out two other long containers.

"To be honest," the Lieutenant said. "One reason I came up here because the Secretary was screaming Bonnie Tyler on the karaoke machine downstairs and I was done with that."

"Understandable," Hannibal nodded.

He squeezed what looked like purple icing into the drink, stirred it, squeezed a substance like red jelly on top of that, then striped them back and forth.

The Lieutenant cocked an eyebrow, as this looked more like cake decorating than drink mixing.

"I'm trying to make this tequila look like your sweater," he informed.

"It's red and green, man,"

"Shuddup, I'm almost done,"

"Hey, I'm not a critic,"

The General grinned maliciously at the drink as he poured in a new red wine. He delicately stuck a yellow umbrella in it and handed it to his friend.

"Here you are. I call it... Elm Street Chianti Martini Dream,"

"You flatter me," the Lieutenant smirked. He cheered the drink and then sipped at it. The General watched on excitedly.

Before the Lieutenant had even swallowed, his eyes went wide and he held the liquid in his mouth, making a low 'hrrrmmmmm' noise. Hannibal smiled.

"Is it good? It's good, right?"

Krueger set the drink down and, still not swallowing, smiled forcefully with a shaky thumbs up. The General's face fell.

"You hate it,"

The Lieutenant shook his head unconvincingly. However, he spun around and spit it out over the floor.

"What the hell was IN that?"

"Grape cream! You love grape cream!" Hannibal snapped.

"On ICE CREAM! You don't put ice cream drizzle in a DRINK! I thought food was, like, your thing, man!"

"My thing," Lecter said, his eyes shadowing dangerously. "is making sure you idiots don't get in the way of my conquest of this pathetic universe."

"Yeah. Like I'm gonna get in _your_ way," Krueger rolled his eyes. But he smirked playfully and Hannibal did so in return.

The door opened again and a man in a black suit and red bow tie rode in on a tricycle far too small for him. His black hair was slick and parted and his face was painted white with small red targets on his cheeks.

"Yo! My homies! What is up! Are we chillin' like villains up in here?"

"Get out," the Lieutenant and General chorused.

"Your entire life is garbage," Hannibal said.

"No one loves you," Krueger added.

The man turned his tricycle and rode out in an instant. Once the door closed, the other two shook their heads at each other.

"The nerve," the General sighed.

"Some peoples' kids," the Lieutenant added.

They sat in silence before the door swung open once more and the Commander barged inside.

"What the-?" he panted. "What are you guys doing in here?"

"Making effing daisy chains," Hannibal snarled. "It's a bar, imbecile, what do you _think_ we're doing?"

"Look- man- you know that crazy lady we just brought back from the dead? She's running around like a maniac!" Jason cried, looking over his shoulder.

Following an angry scream, there was a dinging sound like a tricycle bell and a loud crash.

"I think she just totalled the Plumber's bike!" the Commander cried.

That was all it took to have Hannibal leap over the counter and Krueger scramble off the stool, launching out the door past Jason.

The hotel hallways were almost all identical with white walls and a bizarre dark orange and brown carpet with hexagonal patterns. Currently, the hallway outside of Bar 237 was being trashed by a Morgana Pendragon, who was striding down the hall in a fit of rage, blasting what looked like fireballs at the walls.

"Holy shhhhhe looks pissed," Krueger breathed.

The Plumber screamed in horror at the mangled tricycle that had been tossed down the hall.

"That- was- MINE!" He whipped out a long knife and the Secretary, who was watching from the sidelines, held up her phone.

"Oh, I am so happy I came upstairs. This should be _excellent_!"

"Secretary," Lecter growled. Carrie looked up, wide-eyed.

Cracking a smile, the General said- "Send me that video when you're done," He turned to watch the oncoming fight and cupped his hands around his mouth. "GREAT IDEA, PLUMBER, YOU DO YOU!"

Krueger snorted behind his hand.

The Plumber ran at Morgana, who had just flicked her wrist and launched Michael Myers into a wall. She stopped walking and raised a hand just as the Plumber raised his knife over his head.

Her pupils glowed a light orange colour and before the eager and impressed faces of the monsters, the Plumber's entire body was thrown into the air by some invisible force. He hit the ceiling hard and then collided with the floor, making a nasty thud that caused Jason and Krueger to cringe. Carrie whooped encouragingly, filming the entire ordeal.

The Plumber did not get up and Morgana stepped over his body and approached Hannibal, who had burst into applause.

"Very good! Very impressive! You'll have to tell me all of your tricks, really! I've never seen anything like that-"

"I need to talk to you and they DENIED that I see you!" Morgana hissed, gripping the front of the General's blue jumpsuit.

"Who did?"

"They did,"

She pointed past her wreckage down the hall to where the Grady Twins were standing in the distance, emotionless and silent. The General rolled his eyes.

"You have to excuse them, they're idiots,"

"Idiots! Ha! As if anyone in this ridiculous building is smart enough to call others 'idiots'!" Morgana sneered. She straightened her black dress, taking a few deep breaths before continuing.

"I must speak with you, Lecter. Personally,"

The General glanced around at his comrades, who simply watched with wide eyes. The Plumber had not moved but was breathing steadily. Nobody cared.

Sighing, the General drew upright from Morgana's intense gaze.

"I see. We will step into the bar together and I will mix you a drink-"

"I don't want that rubbish you call drinks," Morgana spat.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Captain Torrance came bounding down the hallway holding typewriter. Morgana spun around and raised a hand threateningly but The General slowly lowered it with a smirk.

"Relax. You may have to kill him later," he whispered.

Morgana shot him an angry look and jerked her arm away.

"What did you do to my wallpaper?" Jack cried.

"Lady Morgana was denied to speak with me by the Privates," the General explained. "She seemed quite distressed. It wasn't her fault she damaged it."

"What is it, exactly?" Morgana asked, glancing up and down the left wall.

"Wallpaper. Coloured paper we put on a wall," the Lieutenant explained.

"Oh have you never seen wallpaper before, great and powerful Lady Morgana?" the Secretary teased, tucking her phone into her cleavage.

"Watch your tongue, child, or you may find it gone," Morgana snapped. She stormed towards the Captain, who glanced down at her breasts for a second. "Do you own this god-forsaken place?"

"Yes?"

"I need a crystal ball,"

"A what?"

"How stupid are you? A crystal ball,"

"To be fair, _you_ didn't know what wallpaper was-"

"QUIET!" Morgana screeched. Everyone fell silent and the General smiled approvingly. All else looked slightly terrified.

"Um- a crystal ball- Well, seeing as we're in a haunted hotel, there is some weird stuff here... I think I got one in the freezer downstairs," the Captain muttered, taking a few steps back from the seething Morgana. "Just gimme, like, five minutes-"

He turned and bolted the other direction down the hall, jumping over the Plumber's body, holding his typewriter like a baby. Spinning on her heel, Morgana strode back towards the General and grasped the front of the white t-shirt under his jumpsuit, dragging him back into Bar 237.

The General was thrown lightly against a table and he smoothed his front with a smile.

"I'm very flattered for having a personal conversation but-"

Morgana glared at the bar door and it slammed shut. She pointed at a table in the corner.

"Sit. _Now_. Being in a room alone with you is pitiful and I want to get this over with,"

They moved to the table for two and sat on either side. The General folded his hands on the table's surface. He was still smirking evilly. It was what he considered to be his signature look and he prided himself on having it.

"How may I help you?"

"I know what you're planning," Morgana said.

"Did the Lieutenant show you the WDP?"

"The what?"

"Question answered. So you know I plan to take this universe for myself. How did you manage to find out, may I ask?"

"I had a nightmare just now,"

"Oh my. Yes, that can happen here. Especially if you eat the red pepper burritos right before bed," He straightened up. "You're in luck. I'm an ex-psychologist."

"A what?"

"Don't act stupid," Hannibal sneered. He couldn't wipe that grin from his face, he was having too much fun. "You came to me to receive mental health solutions. I'm the man people come to when they need to express their feelings. People sense that about me whether they understand what a psychologist is or not. I'm a listener. So, have you had any past traumas or-"

"My nightmares are not petty little anxiety dreams I come up with," Morgana gasped, though her cheeks had reddened slightly. "They're visions that predict the future. And I just had one about you, Krueger, and everyone in this place."

"I'm pleased to see that we're staying in your conscience-"

"For someone who claims to listen, you never seem to stop talking," Morgana interrupted again. "I know you don't believe in magic-"

The General finally stopped smiling. He scoffed. "Nonsense and non-existent practices,"

"- but it's real. I have it. I was born with it. All of my kind are. There were three powerful witches in my time: l the Disir. Their power of sight reached beyond any practiced before. They could predict the stone truth, something many aren't able to do. As you've taken me a thousand years from home...something I'm having a difficult time processing-"

"Understandable. I know what it feels like to be unfairly taken from your home and being trapped somewhere you hate,"

"- I believed the Disir to be dead. But they spoke to me. In my dream, Lecter, they spoke to me,"

The General was smirking once again, now with disbelief. What she was saying was beyond ludicrous. But he wanted to humour her and he had been fascinated by her since he first read about her. Hearing her speak was oddly enjoyable for him.

"And what did they tell you?"

"That you will lose everything,"

"Really,"

"Yes! They said that you will lose everything you and your comrades have built! Your plan to take Charactia will fail!" Morgana cried. "I want to help take Charactia. I do. But the Disir say that you will lose and what the Disir say is most likely set in stone."

"Morgana, I've decided to believe that you make your own future," the General said. "I'm pleased you'd like to help us in my conquest and I will be sure to give you a fraction of this Earth-"

"You don't believe me,"

"Is it obvious?"

"I am trying to warn you!"

"I don't need warning. I'm far too intelligent for-"

The door opened and the Lieutenant walked in gingerly with a small crystal ball filled with white smoke, seated on a gold pedestal. He set it on the table between Morgana and the General.

"So apparently we have one of these now," he said. "The Captain replicated it."

"What does 'replicate' mean?" Morgana demanded.

"It's a way of creating something that didn't exist before," the General answered. "A sort of copy of something."

"Like magic,"

Hannibal dramatically rolled his eyes. "If you say so,"

"So it's not a _real_ crystal ball?"

"Are you going to keep asking bothersome questions or are you going to actually make a case for your harebrained claims?"

Morgana fell silent and scowled.

"Good work," the General said and waved a hand to dismiss Krueger. Krueger saluted and left sullenly. Lecter turned back to Morgana. He intertwined his fingers and rested his chin upon them.

"So why do you need this exactly?"

"I need to show you what I saw in my dream. The Disir told me that there is a real All-Knower here in Charactia that will tear down what you've built," Morgana whispered.

A crease appeared between Hannibal's eyebrows. "An All-Knower? Here? But that's not possible. They don't know Charactia exists,"

"You knew about the existence of All-Knowers?!" Morgana hissed.

"I've known for quite some time," the General explained thoughtfully. "We had enough transporter juice to use for one trip there and back. It was a brief trip. All I know is that they know all about us...hence their names. And there's one here in Charactia? You're sure?"

Morgana nodded. "It's what I intend to show you. But it requires a real crystal ball and, as you said, this is only a copy. It might not even work,"

"Well, let's try it out then, shall we?"

Morgana outstretched her hand over the crystal ball and closed her eyes. Long sentences of ancient and unknown tongue spilled from her mouth and when she opened her eyes, her pupils shone gold again.

"The Disir call her...Alice,"

The smoke in the crystal ball cleared and Gwendolyn MacMillan's face, scared and white as seen in the food court, swam into view.

Hannibal's hands hit the table, and his jaw hit the floor

"Her..." he whispered.

"You know her?"

"Know her?!" The General ran a hand over his slicked back hair. His heart was going a mile a minute. "I spoke to her- I stood barely a few feet away from her- I sent the Commander to apprehend her to use against that annoying Ethan Hunt and then- then I changed my mind. We were cornered so- so I told the Lieutenant there was no need to take her! _There was no need_\- no- Are you trying to tell me that this girl- this terrified girl who screamed her ruddy guts out at me- is going to end everything I've created?"

Morgana nodded slowly, her mouth open a little. Hannibal looked down at the table breathing heavily, his hands clenched into white fists.

"She's the All-Knower,"

Morgana's lip curled. "I believe that the spirits of the Disir are not as reliable as they were when they were in both body and mind. If we can kill Alice, we might have a chance of winning.

"Look who doesn't believe the fortune-tellers _now," _

"You'd understand my logic if you actually took magic seriously. At least you know who the All-Knower is. She'll be easier to kill that way,"

There was silence between them and slowly, the General looked up, an evil grin spread from each of his stuck-out ears. His eyes were darting around hungrily.

"No. She won't be killed. She's an All-Knower. She's holds all of the secrets of this universe..." He licked his lips. "Imagine what we could learn."

"That is a horrible idea!" Morgana said. "The Disir said that she'll destroy you- she must die!"

But the General was already on his feet, wringing his hands and racing to exit the bar. Morgana jumped up after him, calling his name. He pounded outside of the bar with a wide toothy grin, facing Krueger, Carrie, Jason, and a newly awakened Myers and Plumber.

"I want you to call another WDP meeting and spread the word,"

Everyone groaned but the General cut them off. "Sleep is for the weak. I have new information and we have to get to work,"

No one moved.

"Go on! Get moving! All of you!"

The Lieutenant cocked an eyebrow and raced off the other way down the hall. One by one, saluting, the group split up. However, just as the Secretary turned to leave, the General raised a hand.

"Not you. I have a very important task for you,"

The Secretary gave a frustrated smile and remained back.

"I want you to find the Tracker and have him speak to me in an hour," Hannibal explained. "Then, I want to speak with you privately in my office tomorrow morning."

Saluting, the Secretary took off down the hall.

Clapping his hands together, the General looked to Morgana, who had a nasty scowl on her face.

"Come now, Lady," The General whispered. "I think you just saved this operation."

"I think you just doomed it,"

"Go on downstairs and join the meeting. I'm going to think,"

Rolling her green eyes, Morgana crossed her arms and turned to stride away down the hall. But she jerked to a stop when Lecter gripped her arm. He was staring up at the ceiling with glossy eyes that almost appeared yellow from the lights.

"I saved your life, Morgana Pendragon," he whispered dangerously. "And therefore, you will do as I say."

Looking down, the deep blue irises returned and he gave Morgana an evil smile. He let her go and she whipped round, charging off down the hallway.

The General folded his hands behind his back and whistled to himself, walking the other way, drunk in thought about the infinite things he was going to learn from Alice the All-Knower.

TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
